Shelf. 


PRINCETON,  N.  J. 


— — ; -  v  <3W.  /.T  1<£1V 

Division . .  ID&iO.Z 
1  |  P  I 

Section  .  U» .  j . 

Number .  N,Z, . 


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A 


PILGRIMAGE 


THE  HOLY  LAND; 

COMPRISING 

RECOLLECTIONS,  SKETCHES,  AND  REFLECTIONS, 

MADE 

DURING  A  TOUR  IN  THE  EAST. 


BY 


ALPHONSE  DE  LAMARTINE, 


MEMBER  OF  THE  PROVISIONAL  GOVERNMENT  OF  FRANCE, 

AUTHOR  OF 

“  THE  HISTORY  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS,”  ETC. 


IN  TWO  VOLUMES. 


VOL.  II. 


NEW- YORK: 

D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BROADWAY. 

PHILADELPHIA  : 

GEO.  S.  APPLETON,  148  CHESNUT-STREET. 


MDCCCXLVIII. 


A 


PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


4th  November,  1832. 

I  passed  the  evening  and  night  in  the  Desert  of  St.  John,  to 
take  leave  of  our  excellent  Monks,  whose  remembrance  will 
always  accompany  us.  The  recollection  of  virtues,  humble,  but 
perfect,  remains  in  the  soul  like  the  perfumed  odors  of  a  temple. 
We  left,  with  these  good  fathers,  an  alms,  barely  sufficient  to 
indemnify  them  for  the  expenses  we  had  occasioned  them  :  the 
risks  they  had  to  run  for  us  they  reckoned  as  nothing  :  they 
entreated  me  to  recommend  them  to  the  protection  of  the  terrible 
Abougosh,  whom  I  was  to  see  again  at  Jeremy. 

We  set  off  before  daybreak  to  avoid  the  importunities  of  the 
Bedouins  of  Bethlehem,  of  the  Desert,  and  of  St.  John,  who  ceased 
not  to  follow,  and  even  began  to  menace  me. 

At  eight  in  the  morning  we  had  crossed  the  high  mountains 
crowned  by  the  tombs  of  the  Maccabees,  and  were  seated  under 
the  fig  trees  of  Jeremy,  smoking  our  pipes,  and  taking  coffee  with 
Abougosh,  his  uncle,  and  his  brothers.  Abougosh  lavished  new 
marks  of  respect  and  kindness  on  me.  He  offered  me  a  horse, 
which  I  refused,  as  I  determined  not  to  make  him  a  present  of 
any  sort,  lest  it  should  be  construed  an  acknowledgment  of  the 
tribute  he  commonly  imposed  on  pilgrims — a  tribute  from  which 
Ibrahim  had  released  them.  I  placed  the  monks  of  St.  John,  of 
Bethlehem,  and  of  Jerusalem,  under  his  protection.  I  have  since 
found  that  he  really  went  and  delivered  them  from  the  annoyances 
of  the  Bedouins  of  the  Desert.  No  doubt,  he  little  thought,  when 
I  asked  his  protection  for  the  poor  Frank  Monks,  exiled  in  these 
mountains,  that,  eight  months  later,  he  would  have  to  send  and 
implore  mine,  for  the  deliverance  of  his  own  brother,  led  prisoner 

YOL.  II.  1* 


6 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


to  Damascus ;  and  that  I  should  be  so  happy  as  to  be  useful  to 
him  in  my  turn. 

Having  taken  our  coffee,  and  refreshed  our  horses,  we  again 
set  forward,  escorted  by  the  whole  population  of  Jeremy,  and 
encamped  further  on  than  Ramla,  in  a  magnificent  wood  of  olive 
trees,  which  surrounds  the  town.  Overpowered  with  lassitude, 
and  destitute  of  any  thing  to  eat,  we  sent  to  ask  hospitality  of  the 
monks  of  the  Convent  of  the  Holy  Land,  which  they  refused,  from 
fear  of  the  plague  being  amongst  us.  We  were,  therefore, 
obliged  to  fast ;  but  we  laid  down,  and  fell  asleep,  lulled  by  the 
soft  sea-breeze,  as  it  played  on  the  peak  of*  the  Mount  of  Olives. 
It  was  there  that  the  Virgin,  St.  Joseph,  and  the  Child,  passed  the 
night,  on  their  way  into  Egypt — and  these  thoughts  gave  softness 
to  our  beds. 

We  left  Ramla  at  six  in  the  morning;  breakfasted  at  Jaffa 
with  M.  Damiani ;  and  passed  the  day  in  reposing  ourselves  and 
making  preparations  for  returning  into  Syria  along  the  coast. 

Nothing  can  be  more  delightful  than  these  journeys,  en 
caravane,  when  the  country  is  fine ;  when  the  horses,  having 
rested  long  enough,  step  lightly,  at  morning  dawn,  over  a  smooth 
and  sandy  soil ;  when  the  prospects  succeed  each  other  without 
monotony  ;  and,  above  all,  when  the  sea,  blowing  in  our  faces 
those  cool  undulations  of  air  produced  by  its  supple  and  regular 
waves,  breaks  at  the  feet  of  our  horses,  and  scatters,  at  intervals, 
its  light  spray  around.  This  pleasure  we  experienced  in  coasting 
along  the  charming  gulf  which  separates  Kaipha  from  St.  Jean 
d’Acre.  The  desert,  formed  by  the  Plain  of  Zebulon,  is  hidden 
to  the  right  by  the  high  tufts  of  reeds,  and  by  the  ridge  of  palm 
trees  which  separates  it  from  the  strand  :  one  walks  on  a  bed  of 
fine  white  sand,  continually  watered  by  the  waves  which  break 
on,  and  cover  it  with  a  sheet  of  whiteness :  the  gulf,  closed  in  on 
the  east  by  the  high  peak  of  Cape  Carmel,  surmounted  by  its 
monastery,  and  on  the  west,  by  the  white  shattered  walls  of  St. 
Jean  d’Acre,  resembles  a  vast  lake,  whereon  the  smallest  and 
lightest  barks  might  rock  with  impunity — but  such  is  not  the 
case  :  the  coast  of  Syria,  dangerous  every  where,  is  doubly  so  in 
the  Gulf  of  Kaipha.  The  vessels  which  take  refuge  in  it  from 
the  storm,  and  cast  out  their  anchors  on  an  unsolid  bottom,  are 
frequently  thrown,  upon  the  coast — as  many  sad,  though  pictur¬ 
esque  remains,  too  well  attested.  The  whole  strand  is,  indeed, 
bordered  by  wrecked  vessels,  half  buried  in  the  sand :  some  still 
show  their  shattered  prows,  whereon  sea-birds  build  their  nests  ; 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


7 


while  others  have  only  their  masts  above  the  sand  ;  and  those 
naked  trees,  destitute  of  leaves  or  branches,  seem  like  funereal 
crosses  planted  above  the  ashes  of  the  departed.  Some  have  their 
yards  and  scraps  of  rigging  encrusted  by  saline  vapors  from  the 
sea,  and  hanging  about  the  masts.  The  Arabs  never  touch  these 
wrecks  of  vessels  ;  time  only,  with  the  winter  tempests,  has  the 
charge  of  completing  their  destruction,  aided  by  the  sands  which 
bury  them  day  by  day. — We  saw,  here,  the  Arab  mode  of  fishing, 
which  is  the  same  in  almost  all  the  other  seas  of  Syria.  A  man, 
holding  a  small  net,  folded  up,  above  his  head,  ready  to  be  thrown, 
advances  a  few  steps  into  the  sea,  choosing  the  place  and  hour 
when  the  sun  is  behind  him,  and  illuminates  the  wave  without 
dazzling  him.  He  awaits  the  waves  that  come  forward  before 
him,  and  breaking  as  they  reach  him,  on  the  rock  or  sand.  He 
darts  a  penetrating  and  experienced  look  into  each  wave,  and  if 
he  sees  that  it  brings  fish  with  it,  he  throws  in  his  net,  at  the 
moment  before  it  breaks,  and  would  carry  back  what  it  contains 
in  its  reflux  ;  the  net  falls,  the  wave  retires,  and  the  fish  remain. 
The  weather  should  be  rather  rough  for  this  sort  of  fishing,  as, 
when  the  sea  is  calm,  the  fisherman  sees  nothing ; — the  waves 
only  become  transparent  when  they  rise  high  from  the  surface, 
towards  the  sun. 

The  infected  odor  of  a  field  of  battle  now  announced  the 
neighborhood  of  Acre,  and  we  were  only  at  a  quarter  of  an  hour’s 
distance  from  its  walls.  It  is  a  heap  of  ruins.  The  domes  of  the 
mosques  are  open  to  the  day,  the  walls  exhibit  enormous  breach¬ 
es,  the  towers  are  crumbling  in  the  port ;  it  has  just  sustained  the 
siege  of  a  year,  and  been  carried  by  assault,  by  the  forty  thou¬ 
sand  heroes  of  Ibrahim. 

The  policy  of  the  East  is  ill  understood  in  Europe.  It  is  sup¬ 
posed  to  spring  from  design  ;  but  has  no  foundation  save  caprice  : 
without  any  plan,  it  displays  only  passion ;  and  reverting,  not  to 
the  future,  it  provides  but  for  to-day  and  to-morrow.  The  ag¬ 
gression  of  Mehemet  Ali  is  imagined  to  be  the  premeditation  of  a 
long  and  progressive  ambition ;  whilst  in  fact  it  was  nothing  more 
than  the  result  of  those  favorable  circumstances  which  led  him 
on,  from  one  step  to  another,  almost  involuntarily,  until  he  shook 
the  throne  of  his  master,  and  conquered  half  the  empire.  Another 
chance  may  lead  him  farther  still. 

It  was  thus  that  the  quarrel  arose.  Abdalla,  Pacha  of  Acre, 
an  inconsiderate  young  man,  who  had  been  raised  to  the  govern¬ 
ment  of  Acre  by  a  sport  of  chance  and  favor,  had  revolted  against 


8 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


the  Grand  Signior :  being  vanquished,  he  had  implored  the  assist¬ 
ance  of  the  Pacha  of  Egypt,  who  bought  his  pardon  from  the  Di¬ 
van.  Abdalla,  soon  forgetting  the  gratitude  he  owed  to  Mehemet, 
refused  to  keep  certain  conditions  which  he  had  sworn  to  him 
during  the  time  of  his  misfortune.  Ibrahim  marches  to  force 
him,  and  experiences  a  most  unexpected  resistance  at  Acre.  His 
anger  is  inflamed :  he  requires  new  troops  of  his  father,  which 
arrive,  and  are  again  repulsed.  Mehemet  Ali,  wearied,  recalls 
him,  and  releases  his  son  from  all  his  oaths  ;  the  wounded  pride 
of  Ibrahim  resists  this ;  he  resolves  to  die  under  the  walls  of  Acre, 
or  force  it  to  submission  to  his  father.  By  the  sacrifice  of  troops, 
the  gates  at  length  are  forced ;  and  Abdalla,  a  prisoner,  awaits 
his  death  ;  Ibrahim  sends  for  him  under  his  tent,  addresses  to  him 
some  bitter  sarcasms,  and  expedites  him  to  Alexandria.  Instead 
of  the  bowstring  or  the  sabre,  Mehemet  Ali  sends  him  his  horse, 
makes  him  enter  in  triumph,  and  placing  him  by  his  side  on  the 
Divan,  commends  him  for  his  bravery  and  fidelity  to  the  Sultan, 
and  rewards  him  with  a  palace,  slaves,  and  immense  revenues. 

Abdalla  deserved  this  treatment  by  his  bravery.  Shut  up  in 
Acre,  with  three  thousand  Osmanlis,  he  had  resisted  during  a 
year  all  the  Egyptian  forces  by  sea  and  land.  The  fortune  of 
Ibrahim,  like  that  of  Napoleon,  staggered  before  this  barrier.  If 
the  Grand  Signior,  solicited  in  vain  by  Abdalla,  had  sent  him  a 
few  thousand  troops  in  time,  or  had  even  launched  on  the  seas  of 
Syria  two  or  three  of  those  fine  frigates  which  float  in  uselessness 
on  their  anchors  before  the  caiques  of  the  Bosphorus,  all  would 
have  been  over  with  Ibrahim,  and  he  would  have  gone  back  to 
Egypt  convinced  of  the  impotence  of  his  rage ;  but  the  Porte  was 
faithful  to  its  system  of  fatality,  and  suffered  the  ruin  of  its  Pacha 
to  be  accomplished.  The  boundary  mark  of  Syria  was  upset,  and 
the  Divan  awoke  too  late.  Notwithstanding,  Mehemet  Ali  wrote 
to  his  general  to  return,  but  Ibrahim,  a  man  of  courage  and  ad¬ 
venture,  had  resolved  to  try  his  fate,  and  the  weakness  of  the 
Sultan,  to  the  end. 

He  advanced.  Two  important  and  ill-disputed  victories, 
those  of  Homs  in  Syria,  and  of  Konia  in  Asia  Minor,  rendered 
him  absolute  master  of  Arabia,  Syria,  and  all  the  states  of  Pontus, 
Bithynia,  and  Cappadocia,  which  now  form  Caramania.  The 
Porte  might  still  have  cut  off  his  retreat,  and  by  disembarking 
troops  behind  him,  might  have  re-taken  the  towns  and  provinces, 
where  he  could  not  leave  sufficient  garrisons  ;  a  body  of  six  thou¬ 
sand  men,  thrown  in  this  way  into  the  defiles  of  Taurus  and  Syria, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


9 


would  have  made  Ibrahim  and  his  army  their  prey,  and  imprison¬ 
ed  him  in  the  midst  of  his  victories.  The  Turkish  fleet  was  infi¬ 
nitely  more  numerous  than  Ibrahim’s,  or  rather  the  Porte  had  an 
immense  and  magnificent  fleet,  while  Ibrahim  had  only  two  or 
three  frigates  ;  but  at  the  beginning  of  the  campaign,  Kalil-Pacha, 
a  young  man  of  elegant  manners,  favorite  of  the  Sultan,  and 
named  by  him  Capitan-Pacha,  fled  from  the  sea  before  the  insig¬ 
nificant  force  of  Ibrahim.  I  myself  saw  him  quit  the  bay  of 
Rhodes,'  and  shut  himself  up  in  that  of  Marmorizza,  on  the  coast 
of  Caramania,  at  the  bottom  of  the  gulf  of  Macri.  Once  with  his 
vessels  in  this  port,  whose  entrance  is  excessively  narrow,  Ibra¬ 
him  with  two  ships  could  have  prevented  his  getting  out  again — 
in  fact,  he  did  so,  and  during  the  whole  winter,  when  the  military 
operations  were  the  most  important  and  decisive  on  the  shores  of 
Syria,  the  vessels  of  Ibrahim  alone  appeared  on  these  seas,  and 
carried  him  reinforcements  and  ammunition  without  obstacle  ;  and 
yet  Kalil-Pacha  was  neither  a  coward  nor  a  traitor  ;  but  thus  it 
is  with  the  affairs  of  a  people  who  remain  inactive  while  all 
around  them  is  moving  ;  the  fate  of  nations  is  in  the  genius  of 
their  leaders.  The  Turkish  genius  now  quakes  before  that  of 
its  weakest  Pacha.  The  rest  of  the  campaign  is  well  known, 
and  reminds  one  of  that  of  Alexandria.  Ibrahim  is  incontestably 
a  hero,  and  Mehemet  Ali  a  great  man,  but  all  their  fate  rests  on 
their  own  heads  :  these  two  men  the  less,  there  is  no  more  Egypt ; 
no  more  Arabic  empire  ;  no  more  Maccabees  for  Islamism ;  and 
the  East  returns  to  the  West  by  that  invincible  law  which  carries 
empire  where  there  is  knowledge. 

Same  date. 

The  sands  which  border  the  gulf  of  St.  Jean  d’Acre  became 
more  and  more  fetid ;  we  began  to  see  the  bones  of  men,  horses, 
and  camels,  scattered  on  the  strand,  and  whitening  in  the  sun, 
washed  by  the  froth  of  the  waves ;  at  every  step  these  collected 
heaps  were  multiplied  before  us,  and  presently  all  the  shore  be¬ 
tween  the  sea  and  the  ridge  of  rocks  was  covered  by  them,  and 
the  noise  of  our  horses’  feet  disturbed  the  hordes  of  wild  dogs, 
hideous  jackals,  and  birds  of  prey,  which  had  for  two  months 
been  employed  in  devouring  the  remains  of  the  horrible  feast  that 
the  cannon  of  Ibrahim  and  Abdalla  had  prepared  them ;  some 
dragged  away  in  their  flight  the  half-buried  members  of  men,  and 
the  limbs  of  horses  to  which  flesh  still  clung  ;  some  eagles,  perched 
on  the  bony  heads  of  camels,  rose  at  our  approach  with  cries  of 
anger,  and  returned  hovering  alike  over  our  guns,  and  their  hor- 


10 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


rible  prey  ;  the  herbage,  reeds,  and  shrubs  farther  off,  were  also 
strewed  with  these  frightful  remains  of  men  and  animals.  All 
was  not  the  fruits  of  war.  The  typhus,  which  had  ravaged  Acre 
for  several  months,  completed  what  arms  had  spared,  and  hardly 
left  twelve  or  fifteen  hundred  living  in  a  town  of  twelve  or  fif- 
teen  thousand  souls.  Every  day  there  were  thrown  outside  the 
walls  or  in  the  sea,  new  heaps  of  dead,  which  the  sea  rejected  at 
the  bottom  of  the  gulf,  or  the  jackals  disinterred  in  the  plains. 
We  approached  the  eastern  gate  of  the  unhappy  town  ;  the  air 
was  no  longer  supportable  ;  we  did  not  enter,  but  turning  to  the 
right  along  the  ruined  walls,  where  a  few  slaves  were  working, 
we  crossed  the  field  of  battle  in  its  whole  extent,  from  the  walls 
of  the  city  to  the  country  residence  of  the  ancient  Pachas  of  Acre, 
built  in  the  midst  of  the  plain  atone  or  two  hours  from  the  shore. 
On  approaching  this  palace  of  magnificent  appearance,  and  flanked 
by  kiosks  of  elegant  Indian  architecture,  we  observed  long  fur¬ 
rows  a  little  more  raised  by  the  plough  than  on  our  lands.  These 
furrows  covered  a  distance  probably  half  a  league  long,  by  nearly 
the  same  breadth — the  top  of  each  furrow  rising  one  or  two  feet 
above  the  level  of  the  soil.  It  was  the  site  of  Ibrahim’s  camp, 
and  the  tomb  of  fifteen  thousand  men  that  had  been  buried  in  these 
sepulchral  trenches.  We  marched  slowly  and  with  difficulty 
over  the  ground,  which  barely  covered  the  remains  of  so  many 
victims  of  the  ambition  and  caprice  of  what  is  called  a  hero.  We 
pressed  on  our  horses,  who  stumbled  constantly  against  the  dead, 
and  broke  the  bones  that  the  jackals  had  left;  we  encamped  in 
about  an  hour  from  this  fatal  spot,  in  a  charming  site  on  the  plain, 
well  watered  by  a  running  stream,  shaded  by  palm  trees,  orange 
trees,  and  sweet  limes,  and  beyond  the  reach  of  the  wind  from 
St.  Jean  d’Acre,  whose  emanations  had  pursued  us.  These  gar¬ 
dens,  stretched  like  an  oasis  on  the  naked  plain  of  Acre,  had  been 
planted  by  the  last  Pacha  but  one,  who  was  the  successor  of  the 
famous  Djezzar-Pacha ;  some  poor  Arabs,  sheltered  in  the  huts 
of  mud  and  earth,  furnished  us  with  oranges,  eggs,  and  fowls  ; 
we  slept  there. 

The  next  morning,  M.  de  Laroyere  could  scarcely  rise  from 
his  mat,  to  mount  his  horse  ;  all  his  limbs,  benumbed  by  pain, 
refused  the  slightest  movement.  Pie  felt  the  first  symptoms  of 
typhus,  which  his  medical  knowledge  enabled  him  to  distinguish 
better  than  we  could  ;  hut  the  place  neither  affording  shelter  nor 
resources  of  any  kind  for  a  sick  man,  we  hastened  to  quit  it  be¬ 
fore  the  malady  became  too  severe,  and  slept  fifteen  leagues  from 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


11 


it,  on  the  plain  of  Tyre,  upon  the  banks  of  a  stream  that  was 
shaded  by  enormous  rushes,  and  not  far  from  an  isolated  ruin, 
apparently  belonging  to  the  time  of  the  Crusades.  The  heat  and 
movement  had  reanimated  M.  de  Laroyere  ;  we  placed  him  under 
the  tent,  and  left  him,  to  kill  some  wild  geese  and  ducks  that  rose 
like  a  cloud  out  of  the  rushes — that  day  the  whole  of  our  caravan 
was  fed  by  them. 

The  next  day,  we  met,  on  the  sea-coast,  in  a  delightful  spot, 
shaded  by  maritime  cedars  and  magnificent  plane  trees,  a  Turkish 
Aga,  who  was  returning  from  Mecca,  with  a  numerous  suite  of 
men  and  horses.  We  fixed  ourselves  under  a  tree,  near  the 
fountain,  not  far  from  another  tree,  where  the  Aga  was  break¬ 
fasting.  His  slaves  were  walking  his  horses.  I  was  struck  with 
the  perfection  of  form  and  lightness  of  a  young  thorough-bred 
Arab  stallion.  I  desired  my  dragoman  to  enter  into  conversa¬ 
tion  with  the  Aga.  We  sent  him  a  present  of  some  of  our  provi¬ 
sions,  and  a  pair  of  pistols  ;  he  presented  us,  in  return,  with  a 
Persian  yatagan.  I  ordered  my  horses  to  pass  before  him,  that 
the  conversation  might  turn  naturally  on  the  subject ;  we  suc¬ 
ceeded  thus  far,  but  the  difficulty  lay  in  asking  him  to  sell  me 
his.  My  dragoman  related  to  him  that  one  of  our  party  was  so 
unwell,  that  he  could  not  find  a  horse  whose  paces  were  easy 
enough  to  carry  him  ;  the  Aga  said  he  had  one  on  whose  back 
one  might  take  one’s  coffee  at  a  gallop,  without  spilling  a  single 
drop  out  of  the  cup.  It  was  precisely  the  lovely  animal  I  so 
much  admired,  and  so  much  wished,  for  my  wife.  After  much 
circumlocution,  and  many  words,  we  concluded  the  affair,  and  I 
led  off  the  horse,  which  I  named  El  Kantara,  as  a  memento  of  the 
place,  and  of  the  fountain  where  I  had  bought  him  ;  I  mounted 
him  immediately  to  finish  the  day’s  journey  ;  I  never  mounted 
such  an  easy  animal  ;  one  neither  felt  the  elastic  movement  of  his 
shoulders,  nor  the  reaction  of  his  hoof  on  the  rock,  nor  the  slight¬ 
est  weight  of  his  head  on  the  reins ;  his  forehead  was  so  beauti¬ 
fully  formed  that  one  might  fancy  oneself  mounted  on  a  bird, 
whose  wings  supported  an  almost  insensible  movement.  He  also 
galloped  better  than  any  other  Arab  horse  with  which  I  tried  him. 
His  coat  was  of  a  bright  pearl  gray.  I  gave  him  to  my  wife,  who 
would  never  mount  on  any  other  during  our  stay  in  the  East.  I 
shall  always  regret  this  accomplished  horse.  He  was  a  native  of 
Khorassan,  and  only  five  years  old. 

In  the  evening,  we  reached  the  wells  of  Solomon  :  the  next 
day,  early,  we  entered  Said,  the  ancient  Sidon,  escorted  by  the 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


1  ° 

J.  M 


Franks  of  the  country,  and  the  sons  of  M.  Giraudin,  our  excel¬ 
lent  vice-consul  at  Said.  We  also  found  M.  Cattafago  there, 
whom  we  had  seen  at  Nazareth,  with  his  family.  He  had  just 
had  a  house  built  in  the  town,  and  was  busied  with  preparations 
for  the  marriage  of  one  of  his  daughters.  As  the  ancient  Sidon 
retains  no  vestige  of  its  former  grandeur,  we  gave  ourselves  up 
entirely  to  the  kindness  and  care  of  M.  Giraudin,  and  to  the 
pleasure  of  conversing  on  Europe  and  the  East,  with  this  interest¬ 
ing  old  man.  Become  a  patriarch  4n  the  land  of  Patriarchs,  he 
presented,  in  himself  and  his  family,  the  image  of  every  patri¬ 
archal  virtue ;  and  reminded  us  of  their  habits  and  manners  in 
his  own. 

The  symptoms  of  typhus  become  more  characterized  in  the 
increasing  illness  of  M.  de  Laroyere.  Being  no  longer  able  to 
rise,  or  mount  his  horse,  we  freighted  a  bark  at  Said,  to  convey 
him  by  sea  to  Bayreut.  We  set  out  again  with  the  rest  of  the 
caravan  :  I  despatched  a  courier  to  Lady  Stanhope,  to  thank  her 
for  her  obliging  efforts  in  my  favor  with  the  chief,  Abougosh,  and 
to  request  her  to  seize  every  opportunity  that  might  offer,  for  in¬ 
forming  the  Arabs  of  the  Desert  of  Bka,  of  Balbec,  and  Palmira, 
of  my  safe  arrival. 

5th  November,  1832. 

Slept  in  an  ancient  deserted  ruin  on  the  coast,  and  wrote  some 
verses  during  the  night  in  the  pages  of  my  Bible. — I  rejoice  at 
approaching  Bayreut,  after  a  journey  so  happily  accomplished ; 
I  met  an  Arab  horseman  on  the  road,  bearing  a  letter  from  my 
wife.  Julia  is  blooming  with  health.  I  am  expected  to  pass 
some  days  at  the  Monastery  of  Antoura  in  Lebanon,  with  the 
Catholic  Patriarch,  who  has  arrived  to  invite  us  there. 

At  four  in  the  afternoon  a  frightful  storm,  the  mass  of  clouds 
appearing  to  fall  at  once  on  the  mountains  to  our  right.  The 
noise  of  the  flux  and  reflux  of  these  heavy  clouds  against  the 
peaks  of  Mount  Lebanon  (which  tear  them,)  is  not  unlike  the 
roaring  of  the  sea,  which  itself  resembles  a  plain  of  snow  stirred 
up  by  a  furious  wind.  The  rain  does  not  fall  in  larger  or  smaller 
drops,  as  in  the  West;  but  in  heavy  and  continued  streams, 
which  strike  and  weigh  on  man  and  horse  like  the  hand  of  the 
tempest ;  day  has  completely  disappeared ;  our  horses  walk  in  a 
torrent  mixed  with  rolling  stones,  and  are  likely  every  moment 
to  be  swept  into  the  sea.  When  the  sky  clears  and  light  returns, 
we  find  ourselves  at  the  ridge  of  pine  trees  of  Facardin,  at  half 
a  league  from  the  town.  Home  has  something  dear  to  animals  as 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


13 


well  as  men  ;  those  of  my  horses  who  knew  the  spot,  as  having 
often  carried  us  there,  neigh,  dress  up  their  ears,  and  bound  with 
joy  ou  the  sand.  1  leave  the  caravan  to  defile  slowly  under  the 
pines.  Lebanon  starts  off  at  a  gallop,  and  1  reach,  my  heart 
trembling  with  anxiety  and  joy,  ihe  arms  of  my  wife.  Julia  is  at 
play  in  a  neighboring  house  with  the  daughters  of  the  Prince  of 
the  xWountain,  become  Governor  of  Bayreut  during  my  absence. 
She  has  seen  me  galloping,  from  off  the  terrace  ;  1  hear  her  flying 
to  meet  me,  and  crying,  “Where  is  he  ?  is  it  really  him  V1 — She 
comes  !  She  throws  herself  into  my  arms,  she  covers  me  with 
caresses;  then  runs  about  the  room,  her  fine  eyes  sparkling  with 
tears  of  joy,  raising  her  arms,  and  repeating  “  How  happy  I  am  ! 
how  happy  I  am  V’ — then  comes  again  to  sit  upon  my  knee,  and 
embraces  me  again  and  again.  There  were  in  the  room  two 
young  jesuit  fathers  of  Lebanon,  on  a  visit  to  my  wife  ;  I  could 
not  for  some  time  address  them  even  a  word  of  politeness  ;  dumb 
themselves  before  that  innocent  and  passionate  expression  of  ten¬ 
derness  of  soul  in  a  child  for  her  father,  and  before  the  celestial 
brilliancy  which  her  happiness  added  to  the  beauty  of  that  radi¬ 
ant  head,  they  stood  struck  with  silence  and  admiration.  Our 
friends  and  our  suite  arrive,  and  fill  the  mulberry  plantations 
with  our  horses  and  tents. 

Several  days  of  repose  and  happiness  are  passed  in  receiving 
the  visits  of  our  friends  at  Bayreut.  The  sons  of  the  Emir  Bes- 
chir,  come  down  from  the  mountains,  by  order  of  Ibrahim,  to  in¬ 
vest  the  country,  which  threatens  to  rise  in  favor  of  the  Turks, 
are  encamped  in  the  Valley  of  Nar-el-Kelba,  at  about  an  hour 
from  my  abode. 

7th  November,  1832. 

The  Sardinian  Consul,  M.  Bianco,  who  has  been  intimate  for 
many  years  with  these  princes,  invites  us  to  a  dinner  which  he 
gives  them.  They  arrive,  dressed  in  splendid  caftans  woven  en¬ 
tirely  in  gold  thread  ;  their  turbans  also  composed  of  the  richest 
cashmere.  The  eldest,  who  commands  the  army  of  his  fathers, 
has  a  poniard,  of  which  the  handle  is  entirely  encrusted  with  dia¬ 
monds  of  inestimable  value.  Their  suite  is  numerous  and  singu¬ 
larly  composed.  Amongst  a  vast  number  of  Mussulmans  and 
black  slaves,  there  is  a*  poet  exactly  similar,  by  his  attributes,  to 
the  bards  of  the  middle  ages.  His  functions  consist  in  singing  the 
virtues  and  exploits  of  his  master — in  composing  tales  to  amuse 
him  when  called  upon  to  stand  behind  him  during  his  repasts,  and 
extemporize  verses  or  political  toasts  in  his  honor,  or  in  honor  of 

VOL.  II.  2 


14 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


the  guests  that  the  Prince  wishes  to  distinguish.  There  is  also  a 
chaplain  or  Maronite  Catholic  confessor,  who  never  quits  him  even 
at  table,  and  to  whom  only  entrance  into  the  harem  is  allowed. 
He  is  a  monk  of  a  jovial  and  warlike  countenance,  exactly  resem¬ 
bling  what  we  should  understand  by  almoner  of  a  regiment.  The 
chaplain,  owing  to  his  sacred  profession,  sits  at  table;  the  poet 
stands.  These  princes,  particularly  the  eldest,  do  not  appear  at 
all  embarrassed  by  our  customs,  nor  by  the  presence  of  European 
women  ;  they  converse  with  us  all  by  turns,  with  the  same  ease 
and  grace  of  manner,  the  same  apropos ,  the  same  freedom  of  in¬ 
tellect,  as  if  they  had  been  brought  up  in  the  most  polished  Court 
of  Europe. 

Oriental  civilization  is  always  on  a  level  with  ours,  because  it 
is  older,  and  originally  more  pure  and  more  perfect.  To  an  un¬ 
prejudiced  eye  there  is  no  comparison  between  the  nobleness,  de¬ 
corum,  and  dignified  grace  of  Arab,  Turkish,  Indian,  and  Persian 
manners,  and  our  own.  We  are  felt  to  be  a  youthful  people,  just 
emerging  from  a  hard,  coarse  and  imperfect  civilization  ;  they  are 
felt  to  be  the  well-born  inheritors  of  antique  wisdom  and  virtue; 
their  nobleness,  which  is  but  the  filiation  of  primitive  virtues,  is 
written  on  their  foreheads,  is  stamped  on  all  their  habits — besides, 
there  is  no  vulgar  amongst  them.  Moral  civilization,  which  is  all 
I  note,  is  on  a  level  every  where.  The  shepherd  and  the  emir 
are  of  the  same  family,  speak  the  same  tongue,  have  the  same 
usages,  participate  in  the  same  wisdom,  the  same  grandeur  of  tra¬ 
ditions — which  form  the  atmosphere  of  a  people. 

At  dessert,  the  wines  of  Cyprus  and  Lebanon  circulated 
freely  ;  the  Arab  Christians,  and  the  family  of  the  Emir  Beschir, 
which  is  Christian,  or  believes  itself  so,  drank  without  hesitating 
when  occasion  required.  Toasts  were  drank  to  the  success  of 
Ibrahim,  to  the  deliverance  of  Lebanon,  to  the  friendship  of  the 
Franks  and  Arabs  ;  and  at  length  the  Prince  proposed  one  to  the 
ladies  present  at  this  fete ;  his  bard  then  extemporized,  by  order 
of  the  Prince,  and  sang,  with  a  powerful  voice,  in  recitative,  some 
Arab  verses,  of  which  the  following  is  pretty  nearly  the  sense  : — 

“  Let  us  drink  of  the  juice  of  Eden,  which  intoxicates  and 
rejoices  the  heart  of  the  slave  and  of  the  Prince.  It  is  wine  from 
those  plants  that  Noah  himself  planted,  when  the  dove,  instead  of 
an  olive  branch,  brought  him  from  Heaven  the  stem  of  the  vine. 
By  the  virtue  of  this  vine  the  poet,  for  a  moment  becomes  Prince, 
and  the  Prince  becomes  poet. 

“Let  us  drink  it  in  honor  of  those  young  and  beauteous 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


15 


Franks  who  come  from  the  country  where  all  women  are  Queens. 
The  eyes  of  the  Syrian  women  are  soft — but  they  are  veiled.  In 
the  eyes  of  the  women  of  the  West  there  is  more  intoxication  than 
in  the  transparent  cup  I  drink.  _ 

“  To  drink  of  wine,  and  look  at  the  faces  of  women  is,  to  a 
Mussulman,  two  sins  ;  to  an  Arab  it  is  two  causes  of  delight,  and 
two  manners  of  blessing  God.” 

The  chaplain  himself  seemed  enchanted  with  these  verses,  and 
sang  the  chorus  to  the  bard,  laughing  and  emptying  his  glass. 
The  Prince  proposed  to  us  the  sight  of  sporting  with  the  falcons, 
the  habitual  diversion  of  the  Princes  and  Scheiks  of  Syria.  It  was 
from  hence  that  the  Crusaders  brought  this  custom  into  Europe. 

9th  November,  1832. 

The  climate,  with  the  exception  of  an  occasional  gust  or  gale 
on  the  sea,  and  some  storms  of  rain  in  the  middle  of  the  day,  is 
as  fine  as  the  month  of  May  in  France.  As  soon  as  the  rain  be¬ 
gins,  a  new  spring  commences  :  the  walls  of  the  terraces  which 
support  the  cultivated  slopes  of  Lebanon,  and  the  fertile  hills  of 
the  environs  of  Bayreut,  are  so  covered  with  vegetation  in  a  few 
days,  that  the  ground  is  entirely  hidden  under  the  moss,  the  grass, 
the  lianes,  and  the  flowers  ;  green  barley  carpets  the  fields,  which 
were  only  dust  when  we  arrived.  The  mulberry  trees,  with 
their  second  leaves,  form  round  the  houses  forests  impenetrable 
to  the  sun.  One  sees,  here  and  there,  the  tops  of  houses  scatter¬ 
ed  on  the  plain,  which  rises  from  this  ocean  of  verdure ;  and  the 
Greek  and  Syrian  women,  in  their  rich  and  brilliant  costume, 
are  like  Queens  who  take  the  air  on  the  pavilions  of  their  gardens. 
Little  foot-paths,  formed  in  the  sand,  lead  from  house  to  house, 
and  from  hill  to  hill,  across  this  continuation  of  gardens,  which 
reach  from  the  sea  to  the  foot  of  Lebanon.  In  following  them, 
one  finds,  all  at  once,  at  the  entrance  of  these  small  houses,  the 
most  delicious  scenes  of  patriarchal  life ;  the  women  and  young 
girls,  crouched  under  the  mulberry  and  fig  trees,  at  their  doors, 
work  rich  carpets,  in  wool  of  the  most  brilliant  and  contrasted 
colors ;  others,  fastening  the  ends  of  their  unwound  silks  to  dis¬ 
tant  trees,  wind  them  up,  walking  slowly  and  singing,  from  tree 
to  tree ;  the  men,  on  the  contrary,  walk  backwards,  from  tree  to 
tree,  and  are  occupied  in  making  pieces  of  silk  and  throwing  the 
shuttle,  which  others  throw  back  to  them.  The  children  are  ly¬ 
ing  in  cradles  of  rushes,  or  on  mats  in  the  shade  ;  some  are  sus¬ 
pended  to  the  orange  branches  ;  the  large  Syrian  sheep,  with  im- 


16 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


mense  tails,  that  train  after  them  on  the  ground,  too  heavy  to  stir, 
are  lying  in  holes,  dug  on  purpose  for  them  in  the  cool  earth,  be¬ 
fore  the  door ;  one  or  two  handsome  goats,  with  long  ears,  hang¬ 
ing  down  like  our  spaniels,  and  sometimes  a  cow,  complete  the 
rural  picture.  The  master’s  horse  is  always  there,  also,  covered 
with  his  splendid  trappings,  and  ready  to  be  mounted.  He  forms 
a  part  of  the  family,  and  seems  to  take  an  interest  in  all  that  is 
done,  and  all  that  is  said  around  him — his  physiognomy  grows 
animated  like  a  human  countenance :  when  a  stranger  appears 
and  speaks  to  him,  he  dresses  up  his  ears,  raises  his  lips,  extends 
his  nostrils,  bends  his  head  to  the  wind,  and  snuffs  at  the  unknown 
who  flatters  him  ;  his  soft  but  deep  and  pensive  eyes  sparkle  like 
fire  under  the  long  and  handsome  tuft  of  mane  on  his  forehead. 
The  Arab,  Greek,  and  Syrian  laboring  families,  who  inhabit  these 
houses  at  the  foot  of  Lebanon,  have  nothing  wild  or  barbarous 
about  them.  Better  informed  than  the  peasants  of  our  provinces, 
they  can  all  read,  and  understand  two  languages,  the  Arabic  and 
Greek  ;  they  are  mild,  quiet,  industrious,  and  sober ;  occupied 
all  the  week  with  farming  or  their  silk,  they  repose  on  Sunday, 
and,  with  their  families,  attend  the  long  and  showy  service  of  the 
Greek  or  Syriac  Church  ;  then  return  home  to  a  somewhat  richer 
repast  than  on  the  week  days.  The  women  and  young  girls, 
dressed  in  their  richest  costume,  and  their  hair  plaited  and  thick¬ 
ly  strewn  with  orange  blossoms,  purple  wall-flowers,  and  carna¬ 
tions,  remain  seated  on  their  mats  at  the  doors,  with  their  neigh¬ 
bors  and  friends. 

It  is  impossible  to  paint  with  the  pen  the  admirable  and 
picturesque  groups  of  richness  of  costume  and  beauty  that 
these  women  form  in  the  country.  Every  day  I  see  faces  of 
young  girls  or  of  women  such  as  Raphael  never  pictured  even 
in  his  artist-dreams  ,*  it  is  much  more  than  Grecian  or  Italian 
beauty — it  is  purity  of  lines,  delicacy  of  contour ;  in  a  word, 
all  that  Rome  and  Greece  have  left  us  of  most  perfect ;  and  this 
is  rendered  still  more  intoxicating  by  a  primitive  innocence  and 
simplicity  of  expression,  by  a  serene  and  voluptuous  languor,  by 
the  celestial  light  that  their  blue  eyes,  fringed  with  dark  lashes, 
throw  over  the  features,  and  by  an  ingenuousness  of  smile,  a 
harmony  of  proportion,  an  animated  whiteness  of  the  skin,  an 
indescribable  transparency  of  complexion,  a  metallic  lustre  ot 
the  hair,  a  grace  of  movement,  a  strangeness  of  attitude  and 
musical  vibration  of  the  voice,  which  make  of  a  young  Syrian 
a  Houri  of  Paradise  to  the  eyes. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


17 


These  varied  and  admirable  beauties  are  also  extremely 
common  :  I  never  go  walking  for  an  hour  in  the  country  with¬ 
out  meeting  with  several  belles  going  to  the  fountains,  or  re¬ 
turning  with  their  Etruscan  vases  on  their  shoulder,  and  their 
naked  legs  encircled  by  bracelets  of  silver.  The  men  and 
young  boys  go  on  the  Sundays,  and  seat  themselves,  their  only 
amusement,  on  the  mats  spread  at  the  foot  of  some  great  syca¬ 
more,  not  far  from  a  fountain  ;  they  remain  there  immovable 
the  whole  ,day,  relating  marvelous  histories,  and  drinking  from 
time  to  time  a  cup  of  coffee,  or  of  fresh  water ;  others  go  upon 
the  tops  of  the  hills,  and  you  see  them  there  peacefully  grouped 
under  their  vines,  or  their  olive  trees,  and  seeming  to  enjoy  with 
delight  the  view  of  the  sea,  the  lucidity  of  the  sky,  the  music 
of  the  birds,  and  all  those  delicious  instincts  of  pure  and  un¬ 
sophisticated  man,  which  our  populations  have  exchanged  for 
the  noisy  intoxication  of  taverns,  and  the  fumes  of  a  debauch. 
Never  were  finer  scenes  of  the  creation  peopled  and  animated 
by  purer  or  finer  impressions.  Nature  is  truly,  here,  a  perpet¬ 
ual  hymn  to  the  goodness  of  the  Creator  ;  and  no  false  note,  no 
spectacle  of  misery  or  vice,  disturbs  the  ravishing  harmony  of 
this  hymn.  Men,  women,  birds,  animals,  trees,  mountains,  sea, 
sky,  climate,  all  is  fine,  all  is  pure,  all  is  splendid  and  religious. 

November  10th,  1832. 

This  morning  I  started  early  with  Julia  to  ramble  on  the 
hill  that  the  Greeks  call  San-Dimitri,  about  a  league  from  Bay- 
reut,  in  nearing  Lebanon,  and  following  obliquely  the  curve  of 
the  line  of  the  sea.  Two  of  my  Arabs  accompanied  us,  the  one 
to  serve  as  guide,  the  other  to  walk  at  the  head  of  Julia’s 
horse  and  restrain  him,  or  receive  her  in  his  arms,  if  he  be¬ 
came  too  animated.  When  the  paths  became  too  steep,  we 
quitted  our  horses  awhile,  and  strayed  on  foot  over  the  natural 
or  artificial  terraces  which  form  the  whole  hill  of  San-Dimitri 
into  steps  of  verdure.  In  my  childhood,  I  have  often  figured 
to  myself  this  terrestrial  paradise,  this  Eden,  that  all  nations 
hold  in  their  remembrance  as  a  lovely  dream,  or  as  a  tradition 
of  a  more  perfect  time  and  place.  I  have  followed  Milton  in 
his  delicious  descriptions  of  this  enchanting  abode  of  our  first 
parents;  but  here,  as  in  all  things,  the  work  of  Nature  infinitely 
surpasses  that  of  imagination.  God  has  not  bestowed  on  man 
the  power  of  even  dreaming  such  beauties  as  his  hand  has  made, 
I  had  dreamt  of  Eden  ;  I  can  now  say,  I  have  seen  it. 


18 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


When  we  had  walked  for  half  an  hour  under  the  arches  of 
nopals  which  border  all  the  paths  of  the  plain,  we  began  to  as¬ 
cend  by  little  narrow  steep  roads,  which  lead  successively  to  the 
platforms ;  from  whence  the  prospect  of  the  country,  the  sea,  and 
of  Lebanon,  become  successively  more  extended. 

These  platforms,  of  a  moderate  breadth,  are  all  surrounded 
by  forest  trees,  unknown  in  our  climates,  and  of  whose  nomencla¬ 
ture  I  am  unfortunately  ignorant ;  but  their  trunks,  the  form  of 
their  branches,  the  novel  and  strange  shapes  of  their  conical 
heads,  dishevelled,  pyramidal,  or  spreading  out  like  wings,  give 
to  this  border  of  vegetation  a  grace  and  novelty  of  aspect  purely 
Asiatic ;  their  leaves  also  are  of  every  form  and  every  color, 
from  the  sombre  verdure  of  the  cypress,  to  the  pale  green  of  -the 
olive  or  the  bright  yellow  of  the  citron  and  orange ;  from  the 
broad  leaves  of  the  Chinese  mulberry,  each  of  which  is  sufficient 
to  hide  the  sun  from  the  face  of  a  child,  to  the  light  cuttings  of 
the  tea  tree,  the  pomegranate,  and  innumerable  other  shrubs, 
whose  leaves  are  like  parsley  leaves,  and  form  slight  draperies  of 
vegetable  net-work  between  the  spectator  and  the  horizon.  Along 
the  edges  of  these  borders  of  wood,  lay  parterres  of  verdure  and 
flowers  growing  in  shade.  The  interior  of  each  platform  is  sown 
with  barley,  and  in  one  or  the  other  of  the  angles  two  or  three 
heads  of  palm  trees,  or  the  dark  and  well-rounded  dome  of  a  co¬ 
lossal  carob  tree,  shows  the  spot  where  an  Arab  laborer  has  built 
his  cabin,  surrounded  by  some  vine  plants,  by  a  hollow  protected 
by  green  pallisades  of  Indian  fig  trees,  covered  with  their  prickly 
fruit,  and  a  little  garden  of  orange  trees,  wall  flowers,  and  carna¬ 
tions,  to  ornament  the  hair  of  his  daughters.  When  the  pathway 
happened  to  lead  us  to  the  door  of  these  dwellings,  immersed, 
like  human  nests,  in  these  masses  of  verdure,  we  neither  saw 
surprise,  anger,  nor  ill-humor  on  the  countenances  of  the  good  and 
happy  inhabitants.  They  saluted  us,  while  smiling  at  Julia’s 
beauty,  with  the  pious  salutation  of  the  orientals,  Saba-el-Kair , 
May  the  day  be  blessed  to  you.  Some  of  them  entreated  us  to 
stop  under  their  palm  trees ;  and  brought  us,  according  to  their 
riches,  either  a  mat  or  a  carpet,  offering  us  fruits  and  milk,  or 
flowers  from  their  gardens :  sometimes  we  accepted  their  kind¬ 
ness,  and  promised  them  to  return,  and  to  bring  them  something 
curious  from  Europe.  But  their  hospitality  and  politeness  was 
by  no  means  interested.  They  say  they  love  the  Franks,  who 
know  how  to  cure  all  sickness,  and  the  virtues  of  all  plants,  and 
adore  the  same  God  as  they  do. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


19 


From  each  of  these  platforms  we  mounted  to  another,  exhib¬ 
iting  the  same  scenes,  the  same  arrangement  of  the  trees,  the 
same  mosaic  of  vegetation  on  the  ground  which  they  encompass  : 
only  from  platform  to  platform  the  magnificent  horizon  enlarges  ; 
those  below  are  spread  out  like  a  chess-board  of  all  colors,  where 
the  hedges  of  shrubs,  brought  together  by  optical  illusion,  form 
woods  and  dark  spots  beneath  one’s  feet.  We  followed  these 
platforms  from  hill  to  hill,  redescending  from  time  to  time  into 
the  valleys  which  separate  them,  valleys  a  thousand  times  more 
shaded,  more  delicious  than  the  hills  :  all  hidden  by  the  curtains 
of  trees  of  the  terraces  above  them,  all  buried  in  these  waves  of 
odoriferous  vegetation  ;  but  all  however  having  at  their  entrances 
a  narrow  outlet  of  view  toward  the  plain  and  the  sea.  As  the 
plain  has  disappeared,  (from  the  great  elevation  of  these  valleys,) 
they  seem  to  terminate  immediately  on  the  strand ;  their  trees 
form  a  dark  outline  on  the  blue  of  the  waves,  and  we  amused  our¬ 
selves  sometimes,  while  sitting  under  a  palm  tree,  in  watching  the 
sails  of  the  vessels,  in  reality  at  four  or  five  leagues  from  us,  glide 
slowly  from  tree  to  tree,  as  if  they  were  navigating  a  lake,  di¬ 
rectly  bordered  by  these  valleys. 

At  length  chance  led  our  steps  to  the  most  perfect  and  en¬ 
chanting  of  these  landscapes. 

It  is  one  of  the  highest  valleys,  opens  from  east  to  west,  and 
sunk  in  the  folds  of  the  last  chain  of  hills,  which  advance  on  the 
great  valley  through  which  the  Nahr-Bayreut  flows.  Nothing 
can  express  the  prodigious  vegetation  which  carpets  its  bed  and 
its  sides ;  and  though  these  sides  are  formed  of  the  rock  itself, 
they  are  so  clothed  with  mosses  of  every  sort,  so  saturated  with 
humidity,  which  distills  drop  by  drop,  so  covered  with  tufts  of 
heath,  or  fern,  of  odoriferous  herbs,  of  lianes,  of  ivy,  and  shrubs 
enrooted  in  their  imperceptible  cracks,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
suppose  it  is  the  rock  itself  which  produces  such  luxuriant  vege¬ 
tation.  '  It  is  a  leafy  carpet  of  one  or  two  feet  thick  ;  a  vegetable 
velvet  strewed  in  all  colors,  with  bouquets  of  flowers  unknown  to 
us,  of  a  thousand  forms  and  a  thousand  odors,  which  sometimes 
sleep  as  motionless  as  the  bouquets  painted  on  the  hangings  of 
our  saloons;  and  sometimes,  when  the  light  breeze  sweeps  over 
them,  raise  themselves  with  the  herbs  and  branches  from  whence 
they  issue,  like  the  hair  of  an  animal  stroked  backwards,  becom¬ 
ing  shaded  with  many  tints,  and  resembling  a  river  of  flowers 
and  verdure  that  flows  in  perfumed  waves. 

At  those  moments  gusts  of  intoxicating  odors  load  the  air,  and 
multitudes  of  insects  with  variegated  wings  fly  out,  and  innumera- 


20 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


ble  birds  sing  on  the  neighboring  trees.  The  air  is  filled  with 
their  music,  with  the  hum  of  swarms  of  bees  and  insects,  and  with 
that  soft  murmur  of  the  earth  in  spring  which  might  be  almost 
thought  a  sound  from  the  millions  of  plants  and  redundant  ve¬ 
getation  growing  out  of  its  surface. 

Drops  of  night-dew  fell  from  each  leaf,  shone  on  each  blade  of 
grass,  and  refreshed  the  bed  of  this  little  valley,  as  the  sunbeams 
rose  and  stole  along  the  tops  of  the  high  rocks  and  trees  that  en¬ 
compass  it.  We  breakfasted  there,  on  a  stone  near  a  cavern, 
where  two  gazelles  had  taken  refuge  at  our  approach.  We  were 
careful  of  disturbing  the  retreat  of  these  charming  animals,  who 
are  to  these  deserts  what  the  lamb  is  to  our  meadows,  or  the  doves 
and  tame  pigeons  to  the  roofs  and  courts  of  our  houses. 

All  the  valley  was  hung  with  the  same  moving  curtain  of  foliage, 
and  carpeted  with  mosses  and  redundant  vegetation.  We  could 
not  restrain  an  exclamation  at  every  step.  I  never  remember  to  have 
seen  so  much  life  in  nature  heaped  together  and  overflowing  in  so 
small  a  space.  We  followed  the  whole  length  of  this  valley,  seating 
ourselves  from  time  to  time  where  the  shadows  were  most  cool,  and 
striking  the  verdure  now  and  then  to  force  out  gusts  of  delicious 
odors,  and  myriads  of  insects,  which  rose  like  golden  dust  out  of  its 
bosom.  How  great  is  the  Creator  !  how  profound  and  how  infinite 
the  source  from  whence  such  life,  such  splendor,  and  such  goodness 
flow  !  If  there  is  so  much  to  see,  to  admire,  to  astonish,  to  astound, 
in  this  one  single  corner  of  universal  nature,  what  will  it  be  when 
the  curtain  of  all  worlds  shall  be  raised  for  us,  and  that  we  shall 
see  the  wondrous  work  complete  and  without  end  ? 

It  is  impossible  to  see  and  think,  without  being  inundated  with 
that  interior  evidence  of  the  Deity  which  is  borne  in  on  the  mind, 
while  all  created  nature  is  strewed  with  fragments  of  the  spark¬ 
ling  mirror  in  which  God  has  reflected  himself. 

As  the  western  opening  of  the  valley  is  approached,  its  cliffs 
gradually  sink,  admitting  a  more  extended  view  of  the  sky,  the 
ground  at  the  same  time  gently  declining  under  our  steps.  The 
eye  descends  from  those  eternal  snows  upon  patches  black  with 
the  pine,  cypress,  and  cedar  ;  and  then,  upon  deep  and  gloomy 
ravines  of  which  darkness  seems  to  have  taken  possession  as  a 
nest  for  its  everlasting  repose  ;  below  these  again,  upon  the  golden 
peaks  of  rocks,  at  whose  feet  range  the  lofty  Maronites  and  the 
villages  of  the  Druses  ;  resting  finally  on  a  fringe  of  olive  forests 
which  fade  away  on  the  borders  of  the  plain.  The  plain  itself, 
extending  between  the  hills  on  which  we  stood  and  the  roots  of 
the  gigantic  Lebanon,  may  be  a  league  in  breadth.  It  is  so  sin- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


21 


uous  that  the  eye  can  embrace  at  once  only  about  two  leagues  of 
its  length,  mounds  covered  with  sombre  forests  of  pine  intercept¬ 
ing  the  prospect.  The  Nahr-Bayreut,  or  stream  of  Bayreut,  which 
escapes  at  some  miles  distance,  through  one  of  the  deepest  and 
most  rocky  gorges  of  all  Lebanon,  divides  the  plain  in  two.  It 
flows  gracefully  between  its  well-filled  banks,  sometimes  restrict¬ 
ed  within  their  barriers  and  edged  by  beds  of  reeds,  which  re¬ 
semble  fields  of  sugar-cane,  sometimes  overflowing,  and  throwing 
out  little  glittering  lakes  amid  the  verdant  greensward,  or  under 
the  groves  of  mastick  trees.  Its  borders  are  luxuriant  with  vege¬ 
tation  ;  and  we  distinguished  asses,  horses,  goats,  black  buffaloes, 
and  white  cows  dispersed  in  herds  along  the  river,  while  Arab 
shepherds  forded  the  stream  mounted  on  their  camels.  Farther 
off,  on  the  first  ledge  of  the  mountain,  were  seen  Maronite  monks, 
clothed  in  their  black  robes,  after  the  fashion  of  a  sailor’s  cloak, 
silently  guiding  the  plough  under  the  olive  trees  of  their  fields. 
The  convent  bells  were  heard  occasionally  calling  them  to  devo¬ 
tion,  whereupon  they  would  stop  the  oxen,  rest  the  stilt  against 
the  beam  of  the  plough,  and  throwing  themselves  on  their  knees, 
give  their  team  a  few  minutes  breathing  time,  while  their  own  as¬ 
pirations  were  addressed  to  Heaven. 

As  we  advanced  farther,  and  began  to  descend  towards  the 
river,  we  suddenly  discovered  the  sea,  which  the  mountainous 
wall  of  the  vallev  had  hitherto  excluded  from  our  view,  and  the 
large  mouth  of  the  Nahr-Bayreut,  which  here  joins  it.  The  river 
is  spanned  at  no  great  distance  from  its  mouth  by  a  Roman  bridge 
nearly  in  ruins,  its  arches  lofty  and  without  parapets.  A  long 
caravan  from  Damascus  to  Aleppo  was  crossing  at  the  moment, 
and  appeared  one  by  one,  some  on  dromedaries,  some  on  horses, 
emerging  from  the  shade  of  the  rose  bushes  which  overhang  the 
mouldering  arches,  slowly  climbing  the  summit,  reflected  there 
for  a  moment  from  the  blue  waves  with  their  singular  but  splendid 
costumes  and  motley  bearers,  then  re-descending  from  this  pinna¬ 
cle  of  ruins,  and  the  whole  long  file  of  asses  and  camels  again 
disappearing  amongst  the  tufts  of  rose  trees,  rose  laurels,  and 
plantains,  with  which  the  further  banks  of  the  river  is  shaded. 
A  little  beyond  they  were  once  more  discernible,  moving  along 
the  sands  where  the  swelling  waves  rolled  their  crest  of  foaming 
surf  under  the  very  feet  of  the  animals  on  which  they  were 
mounted.  The  immense  peaked  rocks  of  a  distant  promontory  at 
length  concealed  them,  and  advancing  into  the  sea  bounded  that 
side  of  our  horizon.  The  sea,  at  the  mouth  of  the  river,  exhibits 

2* 


VOL.  II. 


22 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


two  totally  distinct  coats  of  coloring  ;  blue  and  green,  and  spark¬ 
ling  with  moving  brilliants,  where  its  waters  are  unmixed  ;  yel¬ 
low  and  dull  where  the  descending  river  struggles  with  its  waves, 
and  tinges  them  with  the  golden  sands  which  it  incessantly  bears 
down  into  this  roadstead.  Seventeen  vessels  at  anchor  in  the  gulf 
swayed  heavily  upon  the  huge  breakers  with  which  it  is  always 
furrowed,  their  masts  rising  and  sinking  like  so  many  long  reeds 
agitated  by  the  breeze.  The  masts  of  some  were  bare  as  wintry 
trees,  while  others  extending  their  sails  to  dry  in  the  sun,  resem¬ 
bled  the  great  white  birds  of  these  seas  which  hover  in  the  air 
without  their  wings  being  seen  to  vibrate. 

The  gulf,  brighter  than  the  sky  which  canopied  it,  reflected 
part  of  the  snows  of  Lebanon  and  the  battlemented  monasteries 
stationed  on  the  prominent  peaks.  Some  fishing-boats  were  pass¬ 
ing  in  full  sail  to  take  shelter  in  the  river.  The  valley  at  our 
feet,  the  declivities  towards  the  plain,  the  current  sweeping  through 
its  pyramidical  arches,  the  sea  with  its  creeks  amongst  the  rocks, 
the  immense  block  of  Lebanon,  with  its  innumerable  varieties  of 
structure,  those  pyramids  of  snow  which  seemed  to  pierce  like 
silver  cones  the  heights  of  heaven,  where  the  eye  searched  for 
them  as  for  stars ;  the  insensible  sounds  of  insects  around  us,  the 
melody  of  a  thousand  birds  among  the  trees,  the  lowing  of  the 
buffaloes,  the  almost  human  plaints  of  the  camels  of  the  caravan, 
the  dull  and  periodical  roar  of  the  breakers  dashing  upon  the 
sand  at  the  entrance  of  the  river,  the  interminable  horizon  of  the 
Mediterranean,  the  green  and  serpentine  bed  of  the  NahrBayreut 
on  the  right,  the  gigantic  and  indented  wall  of  Lebanon  in  front, 
the  serene  and  beaming  dome  of  heaven,  skirted  with  the  sum¬ 
mits  of  the  mountains  and  the  conical  heads  of  colossal  trees,  the 
coolness  and  perfume  of  the  air  in  which  every  thing  appeared  to 
swim  like  an  image  in  the  transparent  waters  of  a  Swiss  lake, — 
all  these  objects,  noises,  and  shadows, — this  light  and  these  im¬ 
pressions, — constituted  the  most  sublime  and  beautiful  landscape 
my  delighted  senses  ever  drank  in.  What  must  it  then  have  been 
to  Julia?  she  was  all  sensibility, — radiant,  trembling  with  ecstasy  ; 
and  for  my  part,  I  delighted  to  impress  such  spectacles  upon  her 
childish  imagination.  The  Deity  is  depicted  in  them  more  forcibly 
than  in  the  lines  of  a  catechism ;  he  is  there  represented  in  traits 
worthy  of  him  ;  the  sovereign,  the  surpassing  bounty  of  excelling 
nature  reveal  him  such  as  he  is  to  the  infant  mind,  which  trans¬ 
lates  the  perception  of  physical  and  material  beauty  into  a  senti¬ 
ment  of  moral  beauty.  As  the  statues  of  Greece  are  displayed  to 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


23 


the  artist,  to  inspire  him  with  the  instinct  of  loveliness,  the  young 
mind  should  be  initiated  in  the  finer  and  grander  scenes  of  nature, 
that  the  image  it  may  form  to  itself  of  the  Author  of  Nature  may 
be  worthy  of  her  and  of  Him  ! 

We  remounted  our  horses  at  the  foot  of  the  hill,  in  the  plain 
at  the  river  side  ;  crossed  the  bridge,  and  climbed  a  few  wooden 
hillocks  of  Mount  Lebanon,  as  far  as  the  first  monastery,  which  rose 
like  a  castle  fort  on  a  pedestal  of  granite.  The  monks  knew  me 
by  the  report  of  their  Arabs,  and  received  me  in  the  convent — the 
cells,  refectory,  and  chapels  of  which  I  examined.  The  monks 
returning  from  their  labors,  were  occupied  in  unyoking  their  oxen 
and  buffaloes  in  the  vast  court,  which  exhibited  all  the  features  of 
a  large  farm  yard,  encumbered  with  ploughs,  cattle,  dunghills, 
poultry,  and  all  the  instruments  of  rustic  life.  These  labors  were 
carried  on  without  noise  or  clamor,  yet  without  any  affectation  of 
silence,  and  as  if  by  men  actuated  rather  by  a  natural  sense  of 
decorum  than  by  obedience  to  a  severe  and  inflexible  rule.  The 
countenances  of  these  individuals  were  mild  and  serene,  breathing 
peace  and  content,  the  aspect  of  a  community  of  laborers.  When 
the  bell  summoned  them  to  their  repast,  they  entered  the  refec¬ 
tory,  not  in  a  body,  but  one  by  one,  or  two  by  two,  according  as 
they  had  earlier  or  later  accomplished  the  work  of  the  moment. 
The  meal  consisted,  as  it  did  every  day,  of  two  or  three  cakes  made 
of  kneaded  flour,  dried  rather  than  baked  on  hot  stones,  of  water, 
and  fine  olives  preserved  in  oil ;  sometimes  a  little  cheese,  or 
sour  milk,  was  added  ;  and  this  is  the  whole  nourishment  of  these 
recluses,  who  take  it  standing  or  seated  on  the  ground.  All  the 
furniture  of  our  countries  is  unknown  to  them.  After  partaking 
of  their  dinner,  tasting  their  cake  and  drinking  a  glass  of  excel¬ 
lent  wine  of  Lebanon,  which  the  superior  ordered  for  us,  we  vis¬ 
ited  some  of  the  cells,  which  are  all  alike.  A  small  chamber, 
five  or  six  feet  square,  contains  for  its  only  furniture  a  rush  mat 
and  a  carpet ;  while  some  images  of  the  saints  nailed  against  the 
wall,  an  Arabic  Bible,  and  some  Syriac  manuscripts,  form  its  dec¬ 
orations.  A  long  interior  gallery,  covered  with  thatch,  serves  as 
an  avenue  to  all  the  chambers.  The  prospect  enjoyed  from  the 
windows  of  this,  and  indeed  of  nearly  all  the  monasteries,  is  ad¬ 
mirable  ;  the  first  heights  of  Lebanon  below  us,  the  river  Bayreut 
and  its  plain,  the  aerial  domes  of  the  pine  forests  intersecting  the 
red  horizon  of  the  sandy  desert ;  then  the  sea,  set  as  it  were  in  a 
frame  of  capes,  gulfs,  creeks,  and  rocks,  with  the  white  sails  at 
all  times  floating  on  its  bosom — such  is  the  landscape  constantly 


24 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


before  the  eyes  of  these  monks.  They  laded  our  asses  with  pres¬ 
ents  of  dried  fruits  and  leathern  bottles  of  wine,  and  we  quitted 
them  to  return  by  another  route  to  Bayreut.  I  shall  have  more  to 
say  of  them  hereafter. 

We  descended  by  steep  steps  cut  into  detached  blocks  of  the 
yellow  and  soft  freestone  which  covers  all  the  lower  plains  of  Leb¬ 
anon,  the  path  winding  among  these  blocks.  In  the  interstices  of 
the  rocks,  a  few  herbs  and  even  shrubs  find  root,  with  beautiful 
flowers  similar  to  the  tulips  of  our  gardens,  but  infinitely  larger. 
We  started  several  gazelles  and  some  jackals,  which  take  shelter 
in  the  hollows  formed  by  the  rocks.  Great  numbers  of  part¬ 
ridges,  quails,  and  woodcocks,  flew  away  at  the  sound  of  our 
horses’  feet.  Arrived  in  the  plain  we  again  found  barley,  the 
vine,  and  the  palm  tree,  under  cultivation,  and  surrounded  by  a 
rich  vegetation  ;  we  traversed  nearly  half  of  it,  which  brought  us 
to  the  foot  of  an  eminence  covered  by  a  forest  of  Italian  pines, 
with  broad  glades,  in  which  we  perceived  at  a  distance  herds  of 
camels  and  goats. 

This  height  concealed  from  us  the  course  of  the  Nahr-Bayreut, 
the  southern  branch  of  which  we  intended  to  cross.  We  plunged 
into  the  lofty  vaulted  groves  of  beautiful  pines,  and  after  journey¬ 
ing  about  a  quarter  of  an  hour  under  their  shade,  suddenly  heard 
great  outcries  and  the  sound  of  a  multitude  of  human  feet  ;  men, 
women,  and  children,  were  running  to  meet  us  with  the  beating 
of  drums,  and  the  music  of  flutes  and  fifes.  In  an  instant  we 
were  encircled  by  five  or  six  hundred  wild-looking  Arabs,  whose 
chiefs,  attired  in  costumes  once  magnificent,  but  now  dirty  and 
in  rags,  advanced  towards  us  at  the  head  of  their  musicians ; 
they  saluted  and  appeared  to  pay  us  some  very  respectful  compli¬ 
ments,  the  words  of  which,  however,  were  quite  unintelligible  ; 
but  aided  by  their  own  gestures  and  clamor,  and  those  of  their 
whole  tribe,  we  discovered  that  their  meaning  was  an  urgent, 
perhaps  I  should  say,  compulsory  request,  that  we  should  follow 
them  into  the  heart  of  the  iorest,  where  their  camp  was  pitched. 
It  was  a  tribe  of  Kurds,  who  from  the  provinces  adjoining  Per¬ 
sia,  emigrate  for  the  winter  with  their  families  and  flocks,  some¬ 
times  to  the  plains  of  Mesopotamia  near  Damascus,  sometimes  to 
those  of  Syria.  There  they  take  possession  of  an  unoccupied 
wood,  valley,  or  hill,  and  establish  themselves  for  five  or  six 
months.  Far  behind  the  Arabs  in  civilization,  their  invasion  and 
neighborhood  is  dreaded ;  in  fact,  they  may  be  called  the  armed 
Bohemians  of  the  East. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


25 


Surrounded  by  this  crowd  of  men,  women,  and  children,  we 
marched  for  some  minutes  to  the  sound  of  their  savage  music, 
and  to  the  cries  of  a  multitude,  who  regarded  us  with  curiosity, 
half  jocular,  half  ferocious.  We  soon  reached  the  centre  of  the 
camp,  and  at  the  entrance  of  the  tent  of  one  of  their  Scheiks  we 
dismounted.  Our  horses,  which  they  greatly  admired,  were 
committed  to  the  charge  of  a  few  young  Kurds  ;  and  we  were 
ourselves  seated  at  the  foot  of  a  tree,  on  some  Caramanian  car¬ 
pets,  the  Scheik’s  slaves  presenting  us  with  pipes  and  coffee, 
while  the  women  brought  camels’  milk  for  Julia. 

The  appearance  of  this  camp  of  wandering  savages,  in  the 
midst  of  a  sombre  forest,  merits  description. 

The  trees  of  that  part  of  the  forest  were  thinly  scattered,  and 
interspersed  with  large  glades.  At  the  foot  of  each  tree  a  family 
tent  was  pitched,  consisting,  for  the  most  part,  of  a  piece  of  black 
goat’s-hair  cloth,  fastened  on  one  side  to  the  trunk  of  the  tree  by 
a  cord,  and  supported  on  the  other  by  two  stakes  planted  in  the 
ground  ;  the  whole  space  occupied  by  the  family  was  seldom 
surrounded  by  the  cloth,  but  a  fragment  hung  down  on  the  side 
next  the  sun  or  wind,  to  form  a  shelter,  either  from  cold,  or  from 
the  solar  rays.  The  only  visible  furniture  was  a  row  of  jars, 
made  of  a  blackish  earth,  laid  on  their  sides,  which  are  used  by 
the  women  for  drawing  water  ;  some  bottles  of  goat-skin  ;  sabres 
and  long  muskets,  suspended  in  bundles  to  the  branches  of  the 
trees  ;  mats,  carpets,  and  a  few  male  and  female  garments,  lying 
about  upon  the  ground.  Some  of  the  Arabs  possessed  two  or 
three  square  chests,  to  contain  their  effects,  ornamented  with 
designs  in  gilt-headed  nails. 

The  whole  tribe  produced  but  two  or  three  horses.  Most 
families  had  their  tent  surrounded  by  a  few  beautiful  goats,  with 
long  black  silky  hair  and  hanging  ears,  some  sheep  and  buffaloes, 
and  a  single  camel,  ruminating  as  it  lay  with  its  tall  intelligent 
head  erect,  and  stretched  towards  the  entrance  of  the  tent.  Al¬ 
most  all  had,  in  addition,  one  or  two  magnificent  white  grey¬ 
hounds  of  a  large  growth,  which,  according  to  the  Mahometan 
custom,  were  fat  and  well  kept,  and  seemed  to  acknowledge  their 
masters;  from  this  circumstance  I  infer  that  these  tribes  employ 
them  in  the  chase.  The  Scheiks  appeared  to  enjoy  absolute 
authority,  and  the  slightest  signal  on  their  part  seemed  to  re¬ 
establish  order  and  silence,  which  the  tumult  of  our  arrival  had 
disturbed.  Some  children,  having  been  incited  by  curiosity  to 
certain  trifling  indiscretions  towards  us,  they  made  the  men  drive 


26 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


them  to  a  distant  quarter  of  the  camp.  The  men,  generally 
speaking,  were  large,  strong,  handsome  and  well-made,  and  their 
dress  denoted  negligence  rather  than  poverty.  Several  wore 
vests  of  silk,  mingled  with  threads  of  gold  and  silver,  and  blue 
silk  pelisses,  lined  with  rich  furs  ;  their  arms  were  equally  re¬ 
markable  for  their  rich  carvings,  and  the  silver  with  which  they 
were  inlaid  and  ornamented. 

The  women  were  neither  shut  up  nor  veiled  ;  they  were  even 
but  half-clothed,  especially  girls  from  twelve  to  fifteen,  whose 
only  vesture  consisted  of  a  sort  of  chemise,  of  cotton  or  silk, 
thrown  over  the  body,  and  fastened  by  a  girdle,  leaving  the  neck 
and  breast  uncovered  ;  and  a  short  full  kind  of  trowsers  ;  their 
feet  and  legs  always  bare,  and  adorned  with  bracelets  of  silver 
above  the  ankle.  Their  hair,  which  was  generally  quite  black, 
was  plaited  in  long  tresses,  hanging  down  to  the  heels,  and  deck¬ 
ed  with  pieces  of  coin,  threaded  ;  the  neck  and  loins  were,  more¬ 
over,  encased  in  a  network  of  piastres,  jingling  at  every  step  they 
took,  like  the  scales  of  a  serpent.  These  women  were  neither 
tall,  fair,  modest,  nor  graceful,  like  the  Syrian  Arabs,  nor  ex¬ 
hibited  the  fearful  and  ferocious  aspect  of  the  Bedouin  females. 
They  were,  for  the  most  part,  small,  thin,  and  sunburnt ;  but 
gay,  brisk,  playful,  dancing  and  singing  to  the  music,  which  had 
not  for  a  moment  suspended  its  lively  and  animating  airs.  They 
showed  no  embarrassment  under  our  survey,  nor  any  modest 
uneasiness  at  their  half-nakedness  before  the  men  of  the  tribe  ; 
and  the  men  themselves  seemed  to  exercise  no  authority  over 
them,  contenting  themselves  with  laughing  at  their  indiscreet 
curiosity  respecting  us,  and  pushing  them  gently  and  jokingly 
aside.  A  few  of  the  young  maidens  were  very  pretty,  and  pi - 
quantes ;  they  all  tint  their  black  eyes  with  henna  round  the 
edge  of  the  lids,  which  greatly  increases  the  vivacity  of  their 
expression.  Their  legs  and  hands,  also,  were  stained  of  a  ma¬ 
hogany  color  ;  and  the  dazzling  whiteness  of  their  ivory  teeth 
set  off  by  lips  tattooed  with  blue,  and  by  their  tanned  complexions, 
imparted  a  wild,  though  not  ferocious  character  to  their  physiog¬ 
nomy.  They  somewhat  resembled  the  young  women  of  Pro¬ 
vence  or  Naples,  but  having  a  more  arched  forehead,  a  freer  gait, 
a  franker  smile,  and  more  natural  manners.  Their  countenances 
remain  deeply  impressed  upon  the  memory,  for  we  are  not  apt 
to  meet  with  such  faces  a  second  time. 

We  were  surrounded  by  about  one  or  two  hundred  of  the  tribe, 
and  having  made  our  observations  upon  their  camp,  their  per- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


27 


sonal  appearance,  and  their  employments,  we  made  signs  of  de¬ 
siring  to  remount  our  horses,  which  were  immediately  brought 
to  us — and  as  they  were  frightened  by  the  strange  aspect  and 
cries  of  the  surrounding  throng,  and  by  the  sound  of  the  drums, 
the  Scheik  made  two  of  his  women  carry  Julia  to  the  outskirts  of 
the  forest,  the  whole  tribe  accompanying  us  thus  far.  There  we 
remounted,  and  they  offered  us  a  goat  and  a  camel  as  parting 
presents,  which  however,  we  declined.  On  our  parts,  we  gave 
them  a  handful  of  Turkish  piastres  (which  the  young  girls  divided 
amongst  themselves  to  add  to  their  collars),  and  two  gold  coins  to 
the  Scheik’s  wives.  At  a  short  distance  from  the  forest  we  again 
fell  in  with  the  river,  forded  it,  and  under  its  fringe  of  rose-laurels 
we  met  another  party  of  girls  of  the  Kurd  tribe,  about  a  hundred 
in  number,  returning  from  Bayreut,  where  they  had  been  pur¬ 
chasing  some  earthen  jars,  and  some  pieces  of  stuff  for  a  marriage 
in  their  tribe,  and  were  stopping  here  to  dance  in  the  shade,  each 
holding  in  her  hand  some  article  of  the  domestic  economy,  or  of 
finery  for  their  companion.  They  followed  us  very  clamorously 
a  long  time,  laying  hold  of  Julia’s  dress  and  of  our  horses’  manes, 
to  obtain  coin  from  us,  and  as  soon  as  we  had  thrown  them  some 
they  ran  away,  and  dashed  into  the  river  with  all  speed  to  regain 
their  camp. 

After  crossing  the  Nahr-Bayreut  and  the  other  half  of  the  cul¬ 
tivated  plain,  shaded  by  young  palms  and  pines,  we  arrived  at 
the  hills  of  red  sand  extending  eastward  of  Bayreut,  between  the 
sea  and  the  valley  ;  forming  a  portion  of  the  Egyptian  Desert, 
cast  at  the  foot  of  Lebanon  and  encompassed  by  magnificent 
oases.  The  sand  is  as  red  as  ochre,  and  as  fine  as  an  impalpable 
powder.  The  Arabs  affirm  that  this  desert  of  red  sand  is  neither 
carried  thither  by  the  winds,  nor  accumulated  by  the  waves,  but 
vomited  by  a  subterranean  torrent  which  communicates  with  the 
Deserts  of  Gaza  and  El-Arish,  pretending  that  springs  of  sand 
exist  as  well  as  springs  of  water,  and  pointing  out  in  confirmation 
of  their  opinion  the  color  and  form  of  the  sea  sand,  which  in  fact 
bears  not  the  smallest  affinity  to  that  of  the  desert.  The  colors 
of  the  two  are  as  distinct  as  those  of  a  course  of  marble  and  of 
granite.  Be  the  fact  however  as  it  may,  the  sand,  whether  dis¬ 
charged  from  subterranean  sources  or  scattered  there  by  the 
violent  winds  of  winter,  spreads  itself  in  sheets  five  or  six  leagues 
in  breadth,  and  raises  mountains  or  scoops  out  valleys — changing 
their  respective  forms  with  every  storm.  After  a  short  progress 
among  these  fluctuating  labyrinths,  it  becomes  impossible  to 


28 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


ascertain  unaided  where  we  are  or  in  what  direction  we  are  ad¬ 
vancing.  Hills  of  sand  screen  the  horizon  on  all  sides,  and.no 
path  can  subsist  on  the  surface  of  these  waves,  which  preserve 
no  more  traces  of  the  passage  of  horses  or  camels  than  do  the 
watery  billows  of  that  of  a  ship  or  a  boat;  all  are  effaced  by  the 
lightest  breeze.  Some  of  the  downs  were  so  steep  that  our  horses 
could  scarcely  ascend  them,  and  we  were  obliged  to  advance 
cautiously  for  fear  of  being  swallowed  up  by  the  quicksands 
which  frequently  occur.  When  the  simoom  of  the  desert  arises, 
these  hills  wave  like  the  breakers  of  the  sea,  and  silently  folding 
themselves  over  the  adjacent  hollow  swallow  up  the  camels  of  the 
caiavan.  Such  dismal  and  movable  solitudes,  where  no  trace 
of  vegetation  can  be  discerned,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  large 
bulbous  roots  which  roll  occasionally  under  the  feet  of  the  horses, 
give  the  melancholy  impression  of  a  noiseless  tempest  attended 
by  images  of  death.  They  annually  extend  their  invasion  some 
paces  over  the  cultivated  lands  in  their  neighborhood.  Towards 
their  verge,  therefore,  are  always  to  be  seen  palm  or  fig  trees 
shooting  up  their  withered  heads  from  the  surface  like  the  masts 
of  vessels  absorbed  in  the  watery  wastes.  The  only  distinguish¬ 
able  sound  we  heard  during  our  painful  transit  over  these  path¬ 
less  wilds  was  the  dashing  of  the  breakers  at  half  a  league  dis¬ 
tance  against  the  rocks.  The  setting  sun  tinged  the  crests  of 
those  mountains  of  red  dust  with  a  color  which  I  can  compare 
to  nothing  but  the  ardent  flame  of  a  furnace ;  or  its  rays  gliding 
down  into  the  valleys,  inundated  them  with  fire  like  the  avenues 
of  a  blazing  edifice.  Now  and  then,  on  reaching  the  summit  of 
a  hill,  we  caught  sight  of  the  white  tips  of  Lebanon,  or  of  the  sea 
with  its  band  of  surf  bordering  the  sinuous  coast  of  the  gulf  of 
Sidon ;  then  suddenly  we  plunged  again  into  ravines  of  fiery 
sand,  and  could  no  longer  descry  any  object  but  the  sky 
above  us. 

I  watched  Julia,  who  often  turned  to  look  after  me,  her  beau¬ 
tiful  face  suffused  with  emotion,  and  bearing  traces  of  fatigue  ; 
and  in  her  expressive  eyes,  which  seemed  to  scrutinize  my  feel- 
lings,  I  read  mingled  impressions  of  terror,  enthusiasm  and  de¬ 
light.  The  increasing  roar  of  the  sea  indicated  our  approach  to 
the  Mediterranean  coast,  which  abruptly  presented  itself  imme¬ 
diately  below  us  as  we  traversed  a  precipitous  elevation  of  at 
least  two  hundred  feet.  The  solid  soil  resounding  to  our  steps, 
though  still  covered  with  a  light  bed  of  white  sand,  proved  that 
trackless  waves  of  sand  no  longer  formed  our  only  footing,  but 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


29 


we  were  now  succeeded  by  the  rocks  which  girdle  the  whole  line 
of  the  Syrian  coast.  We  had  reached  a  point  of  it  where  the  per, 
petual  conflict  of  the  rocks  and  waters  has  produced  a  remarkable 
effect;  the  repeated  attacks  of  the  surge,  or  the  shock  of  an 
earthquake,  have  detached  from  the  continuous  block  of  the  cliffs 
immense  mountains  of  stone,  which,  rolling  into  the  sea,  and  there 
fixing  themselves  in  an  upright  position  have  been  worn,  smooth¬ 
ed,  and  polished  by  the  action  of  the  waters  for  centuries,  and  have 
assumed  the  most  extraordinary  forms.  One  of  these  rocks  stood 
before  us  at  about  a  hundred  feet  distance,  rearing  its  crest  above 
the  level  of  the  coast ;  the  waves  incessantly  beating  against  it 
had,  in  process  of  time,  cleft  it  in  the  middle,  and  formed  a 
gigantic  arch,  resembling  the  mouth  of  a  triumphal  monument : 
the  interior  walls  were  polished  and  shining  as  Carrara  marble  ; 
the  retiring  billows  left  them  nearly  dry,  and  resplendent  with 
the  boiling  spray  ;  then  soon  returning  in  tremendous  breakers, 
they  rushed  with  the  crash  of  thunder  into  the  arch,  filling  it  to 
the  vaulted  roof,  and  chafed  by  the  concussion,  rebounded  in  a 
torrent  of  fresh  foam  to  the  verry  summit  of  the  rock,  from 
whence  they  fell  back  in  white  tresses,  or  in  dazzling  showers  of 
watery  globules,  as  fine  as  dust. 

Our  horses  shuddered  with  horror  at  every  return  of  the 
waves,  while  we  could  not  wrest  our  eyes  from  the  conflicting 
elements,  which  for  half  an  hour  of  our  route  inundated  the  shore 
with  these  magnificent  sports  of  nature.  Others  of  these  detached 
rocks  take  the  form  of  embattled  towers  ;  they  are  entirely  cover¬ 
ed  with  the  nests  of  the  sea-swallow,  and  united  to  the  shore  by 
natural  bridges,  underneath  which,  the  subterranean  breakers  are 
heard  roaring  and  bellowing.  In  certain  spots,  rocks  pierced 
through  by  the  action  of  the  waves,  serve  as  pipes  to  throw  up 
the  saline  spray  in  fountains;  which  rise  in  broad  columns  to  the 
height  of  several  feet  from  the  earth,  and  when  the  surge  has  re¬ 
tired,  return  murmuring  to  their  abyss.  At  the  moment  we 
passed  the  spot  the  sea  was  running  high,  rolling  to  the  land  in 
blue  mountains  with  transparent  crests,  and  breaking  against  the 
rocks  with  a  crash  that  reverberated  along  a  vast  extent  of  shore, 
while  the  stupendous  marine  arch  of  rock  which  we  were  con¬ 
templating  seemed  to  stagger  beneath  the  shock.  The  inter¬ 
minable  prospect  of  an  immense  sea,  unbroken  by  a  single  sail,  at 
that  hour  when  the  first  shadows  of  the  declining  sun  began  to 
darken  its  surface  ;  those  gigantic  fractures  of  the  coast;  and  the 
tumultuous  noise  of  the  waves  shaking  enormous  rocks,  with  as 


30 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


much  ease  as  the  feet  of  birds  remove  grains  of  sand ;  the  loud 
subterranean  echoes  multiplying  the  dull  roar  of  the  tempest ; — 
all  this,  immediately  succeeding  the  silent  and  terrible  solitudes 
we  had  passed,  struck  upon  our  senses  with  impressions  so 
various,  solemn,  and  powerful,  as  to  deprive  us  of  the  use  of 
speech,  while  tears  of  emotion  glistened  in  Julia’s  eyes. 

In  silence  we  pursued  our  way  over  the  narrowest  part  of  the 
desert  of  red  sand,  which  we  still  had  to  cross,  and  making  for 
the  hills  of  Bayreut,  at  sunset  reached  the  great  pine  forest  of  the 
Emir  Fakar-el-Din.  There  Julia,  recovering  her  voice,  turned 
to  me,  and  said  in  a  tone  of  ecstasy,  “  Have  I  not  had  the  most 
beautiful  journey  that  the  world  can  afford  ?  Oh  !  how  great  is 
God,  and  how  good  to  me,”  added  she,  “  in  selecting  me,  young 
as  I  am,  for  the  contemplation  of  such  wonderful  works  !” 

It  was  night  when  we  dismounted  at  the  door  of  the  house ; 
we  had  other  excursions  in  view  for  the  days  that  intervened  be¬ 
fore  our  journey  to  Damascus. 


THE  COLONIZATION  OF  LEBANON. 

THE  MARONITES. 

The  cradle  of  the  Maronites,  of  whom  I  am  about  to  speak,  is 
veiled  in  obscurity.  History,  incomplete  and  fabulous  respecting 
all  things  that  belong  to  the  first  centuries  of  our  era,  leaves  doubts 
upon  the  various  origins  which  have  been  assigned  to  their  insti¬ 
tutions.  They  have  but  few  books,  and  these  unsubjected  to  cen¬ 
sorship  or  criticism ;  yet  as  the  knowledge  and  traditions  of  a 
people  concerning  themselves  should  be  always  preferred  to  the 
vain  speculation  of  the  traveler,  I  here  submit  the  result  of  their 
own  histories. 

A  holy  recluse,  named  Maron,  lived  ahout  the  year  400,  and 
is  mentioned  by  Theodorick  and  St.  Chrysostom.  He  inhabited 
the  desert,  and  his  disciples  having  dispersed  themselves  through¬ 
out  the  different  regions  of  Syria,  built  several  monasteries,  the 
principal  of  which  was  in  the  neighborhood  of  Apamea,  on  the 
fertile  banks  of  the  Orontes.  All  the  Syriac  Christians  who  were 
not  affected  with  the  heresy  of  the  Monothelites,  took  refuge  around 
these  monasteries,  and  from  that  circumstance  received  the  name 
of  Maronites.  Yolney,  who  lived  several  months  among  them, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


31 


collected  the  best  accounts  of  their  origin  ;  and  his  statements 
nearly  coincide  with  the  following,  which  I  gathered  from  their 
local  traditions : 

Whatever  their  earlier  history,  the  Maronites  are,  in  the  pre¬ 
sent  day,  governed  by  the  purest  theocracy  that  has  withstood  the 
assaults  of  time  ;  incessantly  menaced  by  Mussulman  tyranny,  it 
has  been  obliged  to  continue  moderate  and  protective,  and  to  allow 
the  germination  of  those  principles  of  civil  liberty,  now  ready  to 
develope  themselves  among  them. 

The  Maronite  nation,  which,  according  to  Volney,  consisted, 
in  1784,  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  souls,  now  reckons 
more  than  two  hundred  thousand,  and  is  multiplying  every  day. 
Its  territory  is  a  hundred  and  fifty  square  leagues  in  extent,  but 
has  only  arbitrary  limits,  spreading  by  degrees  over  the  sides  of 
Mount  Lebanon,  and  in  the  valleys  and  plains  around  it,  as  its 
swarming  population  disperses  to  found  new  villages.  The  town 
of  Zharkle,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Valley  of  Bekaa,  opposite  Balbec, 
which,  twenty  years  ago,  scarcely  contained  a  population  of 
twelve  hundred  souls,  has  now  as  many  thousands,  and  is  daily 
increasing. 

The  Maronites  are  subject  to  the  Emir  Beschir,  and  form, 
with  the  Druses  and  Metouahs,  a  sort  of  despotic  confederation 
under  the  government  of  that  Emir.  Although  the  members  of 
these  three  nations  differ  in  origin,  in  religion,  and  in  manners, 
and  are  scarcely  ever  confounded  in  the  same  villages,  the  inter¬ 
est  of  defending  their  common  liberty,  and  the  vigorous  and  politic 
sway  of  the  Emir  Beschir,  retains  them  under  a  single  sceptre. 
Their  numerous  habitations  cover  the  space  comprehended  be¬ 
tween  Latakia  and  St.  John  d’Acre,  on  one  side  and  Damascus 
and  Bayreut  on  the  other.  I  shall  have  something  to  say  sepa¬ 
rately  of  the  Druses  and  the  Metoualis. 

The  Maronites  occupy  the  most  central  valleys,  and  most  ele¬ 
vated  ridges  of  the  principal  group  of  Lebanon,  from  the  environs 
of  Bayreut  to  Syrian  Tripoli.  The  slopes  of  these  mountains 
towards  the  sea  are  fertile,  and  watered  by  numerous  streams  of 
never-failing  cascades.  They  produce  silk,  oil,  barley,  and 
wheat ;  the  heights  are  almost  inaccessible,  and  the  flanks  of  the 
mountains  are  in  all  parts  pierced  by  the  naked  rock  :  but  the 
indefatigable  activity  of  this  people,  to  whose  religion  those  peaks 
and  precipices  offer  the  only  secure  asylum,  has  reduced  even  the 
rock  to  fertility ;  has  erected,  stage  above  stage,  even  to  the  high¬ 
est  crags,  to  the  eternal  snows,  terrace  walls,  formed  of  blocks  of 


32 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


soft  rock ;  has  carried  up  to  these  terraces  the  little  vegetative 
soil  borne  down  by  the  waters  into  the  ravines ;  has  pulverized 
the  stone  itself,  to  render  it  productive,  by  admixture  with  that 
spare  collection  of  earth,  and  has  made  of  Lebanon  a  complete 
garden,  covered  with  mulberry,  fig,  olive,  and  plum  trees.  The 
traveler  cannot  overcome  his  astonishment,  when,  after  climbing 
whole  days  over  piles  of  mountains  which  are  but  one  solid  rock, 
he  suddenly  encounters,  in  the  deep  bosom  of  an  elevated  gorge, 
or  on  the  platform  of  a  natural  pyramid,  a  beautiful  village,  built 
of  white  stone,  inhabited  by  a  numerous  and  rich  population,  with 
a  Moorish  castle  in  the  centre,  a  monastery  in  the  distant  per¬ 
spective,  a  torrent  dashing  its  foam  against  the  foot  of  the  village, 
and  all  around  him  a  prospect  of  vegetation  and  verdure,  where 
pines,  chestnut,  and  mulberry  trees  overshadow  vineyards,  or 
fields  of  maize  and  corn.  These  villages  are  sometimes  sus¬ 
pended  almost  perpendicularly  one  above  another,  within  a  stone’s 
throw  ;  the  human  voice  itself  may  be  heard  from  one  to  the 
other,  yet  the  steep  acclivity  of  the  mountain  requires  such  wind¬ 
ings  and  sinuosities,  that  the  path  of  communication  is  probably 
the  journey  of  an  hour  or  two. 

In  every  village  is  found  a  Scheik,  administering  the  justice 
of  the  country  as  a  sort  of  feudal  lord  ;  but  that  justice  and  its 
administration,  although  summarily  exercised,  and  in  the  simplest 
quality  of  police,  by  the  Scheiks,  is  neither  absolute  nor  without 
appeal  ;  the  superior  administration  belongs  to  the  Emir  and  his 
Divan.  Justice  resides  partly  in  the  Emir  and  partly  in  the 
Bishops,  between  whom  there  is  a  contested  jurisdiction.  To  the 
Patriarch  of  the  Maronites  is  reserved  solely  the  decision  of  all 
cases  in  which  the  civil  and  religious  law  come  in  contact — as  in 
marriages,  dispensations,  separations.  The  Prince  is  obliged  to 
observe  the  most  cautious  policy  towards  the  Patriarch  and  Bish¬ 
ops,  for  the  spiritual  authority  of  the  clergy  over  their  flocks  is 
immense  and  incontestable.  The  clergy  consists  of  the  Patriarch, 
who  is  elected  by  the  Bishops,  and  confirmed  by  the  Pope  ;  of  the 
Pope’s  Legate,  sent  from  Rome,  and  residing  in  the  Monastery 
either  of  Antoura  or  Kanoubin  ;  of  the  Bishops,  the  Superiors  of 
Monastaries,  and  the  Curates.  Notwithstanding  that  the  Romish 
Church  has  severely  maintained  the  law  of  clerical  celibacy  in 
Europe,  and  that  many  of  her  writers  have  affected  to  recognize 
doctrinal  law  in  that  rule  of  her  discipline,  she  has  been  obliged 
to  yield  the  point  in  the  East,  and  the  Maronite  priests,  though 
fervent  and  devout  Catholics,  are  married  men.  The  privilege  of 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


33 


marriage,  however,  is  not  extended  either  to  the  monks  living  in 
community,  nor  to  the  bishops, — the  secular  clergy  and  curates 
alone  enjoy  it ;  and  all  inconveniences  that  might  result  from  this 
rule  are  obviated  by  the  seclusion  in  which  Arab  women  live,  the 
simple  patriarchal  manners  of  the  people,  and  by  custom.  Far 
from  the  purity  of  sacerdotal  morals,  the  popular  respect  for  the 
ministers  of  their  faith,  or  the  precept  of  confession,  having  in 
any  degree  suffered  from  this  indulgence,  it  may  be  truly  said, 
that  in  no  country  of  Europe  are  the  clergy  so  pure,  so  exclu¬ 
sively  devoted  to  their  pious  ministry,  so  venerable,  or  so  influen¬ 
tial  over  the  minds  of  the  people  as  they  are  here.  Those  who 
would  contemplate  in  actual  existence  all  that  the  imagination 
pictures  of  the  season  of  infant  and  pure  Christianity  ;  who  would 
see  the  simplicity  and  fervor  of  the  primitive  faith,  purity  of  mo¬ 
rals,  disinterestedness  in  the  ministers  of  charity,  sacerdotal  influ¬ 
ence  without  abuse,  authority  without  domination,  poverty  without 
mendicity,  dignity  without  pride,  prayer,  vigils,  sobriety,  chastity, 
manual  labor — those  who  would  contemplate  all  this  must  visit 
the  Maronites.  The  most  rigid  philosopher  would  find  no  reform 
requisite  in  the  public  or  private  life  of  these  priests,  who  are  alike 
the  example,  the  counselors,  and  the  servants  of  the  people. 

There  may  exist  about  two  hundred  Maronite  monasteries,  of 
various  orders,  on  the  surface  of  Lebanon,  inhabited  by  from 
twenty  to  twenty-five  thousand  monks  ;  but  these  monks  are  nei¬ 
ther  rich,  mendicant,  oppressive,  nor  bloodsuckers  of  the  people. 
They  are  societies  of  simple  and  laborious  men,  who,  wishing  to 
consecrate  their  lives  to  prayer  and  spiritual  liberty,  renounce  the 
cares  incident  to  bringing  up  a  family,  and  devote  themselves  to 
God  and  the  culture  of  the  soil  in  one  of  these  retreats.  Their 
life,  as  I  have  just  shown,  is  that  of  a  laborious  peasant.  They 
tend  cattle  or  silk-worms,  cleave  rocks,  build  with  their  own  hands 
the  terrace  walls  of  their  fields,  dig,  plough,  and  reap.  The 
monasteries  possess  but  little  land  ;  and  each  admits  only  as  many 
monks  as  such  a  portion  of  land  will  maintain.  I  have  dwelt  long 
among  this  people,  have  frequented  many  of  their  monasteries, 
and  have  never  heard  a  single  scandal  imputed  to  the  monks,  or  a 
single  murmur  against  them.  Each  monastery  is,  in  fact,  a  sort 
of  small  farm,  the  servants  of  which  are  voluntary,  and  receive, 
for  their  only  meed,  a  roof  to  shelter  them,  the  food  of  anchorites, 
and  the  prayers  of  the  Church.  So  completely  is  useful  labor  the 
law  of  man’s  nature,  and  the  condition  of  virtue  and  happiness 
here  below,  that  I  have  not  seen  one  of  those  recluses  who  did  not 


34 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


bear  in  his  features  the  impress  of  peace  of  mind,  content,  and 
health.  The  bishops  have  absolute  authority  over  the  monasteries 
within  their  jurisdiction,  which  jurisdiction  is  limited — every  large 
village  having  its  own  bishop. 

The  Maronite  people,  whether  descended  from  Arabs  or  Syri¬ 
ans,  partake  the  virtues  of  their  clergy,  and  form  a  separate  race 
from  all  others  of  the  East ;  it  might  be  conjectured  to  be  a  Euro¬ 
pean  colony,  cast  by  accident  amongst  the  tribes  of  the  desert. 
Their  personal  appearance,  however,  is  Arab.  The  men  are  tall 
and  handsome,  with  a  frank,  though  somewhat  proud  expression, 
a  mild  and  intelligent  smile  ;  blue  eyes,  aquiline  nose,  a  light 
beard,  a  noble  presence,  a  deep  and  guttural  voice,  and  manners 
polite  without  meanness.  Their  costume  is  splendid,  and  their 
arms  are  glittering.  Passing  through  a  village,  and  seeing  a 
Scheik  seated  at  the  door  of  his  battlemented  dwelling,  his  fine 
horses  fastened  in  the  court,  and  the  chiefs  of  the  village,  clothed 
in  their  rich  pelisses,  with  girdles  of  scarlet  silk,  filled  with  yata- 
gans  and  silver-hilted  kandgiars,  their  heads  enveloped  in  immense 
turbans  composed  of  various  colored  stuffs,  with  a  large  lappet  of 
purple  silk  falling  over  the  shoulder — you  might  fancy  yourself 
among  a  nation  of  kings.  Bound  to  Europeans  by  the  strongest 
of  all  ties,  community  of  religion,  they  love  us  as  brothers,  and 
believe  themselves  protected  by  our  consuls  and  ambassadors 
against  the  Turks.  Our  travelers,  missionaries,  and  young  inter¬ 
preters,  who  go  to  study  the  Arabic  language,  are  received  in 
every  village  as  a  family  receives  its  kindred,  and  become  the 
cherished  guests  of  the  whole  country.  They  are  addressed  with 
respect,  lodged  in  the  monastery  or  the  Scheik’s  house,  furnished 
abundantly  with  all  that  the  country  produces,  taken  on  hawking 
parties,  confidentially  introduced  to  the  society  even  of  the  women, 
and  indissoluble  ties  of  friendship  are  formed  between  them,  the 
memory  of  which  the  heads  of  families  transmit  to  their  children. 
I  do  not  doubt  that  if  the  people  were  better  known,  and  the  mag¬ 
nificent  country  they  inhabit  more  frequently  visited,  many  Euro¬ 
peans  would  establish  themselves  amongst  the  Maronites ;  beauty 
of  scenery,  admirable  perfection  of  climate,  the  moderate  price  of 
necessaries,  analogy  of  religion,  hospitable  manners,  individual 
security  and  tranquillity,  all  concur  to  make  a  habitation  among 
them  desirable  ;  and  for  my  own  part,  if  it  were  permitted  to  man 
to  detach  himself  from  his  native  soil,  if  it  were  not  almost  a  duty 
incumbent  upon  him  to  live  wherever  Providence-  has  indicated 
his  cradle  and  his  tomb,  there  to  love  and  serve  his  compatriots, — 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


35 


if  involuntary  exile,  in  short,  should  ever  be  my  lot,  I  should  no¬ 
where  find  it  more  endurable  than  in  one  of  these  peaceful  villages 
of  the  Maronites,  at  the  foot  or  on  the  descent  of  Lebanon,  in  the 
bosom  of  a  simple,  religious,  and  benevolent  population,  under  the 
palm  and  orange  trees  of  one  of  the  gardens  of  those  monasteries, 
within  view  of  the  sea  and  of  eternal  snows. 

The  most  admirable  police  (the  result  rather  of  religion  and 
morals,  than  of  legislation,)  reigns  throughout  the  whole  extent 
of  territory  inhabited  by  the  Maronites.  The  traveler  may  there 
pursue  his  journey  alone  and  unguided,  by  day  or  by  night,  with¬ 
out  fear  of  theft  or  violence  ;  crime  is  almost  unknown  ;  the 
stranger  is  sacred  to  the  Mahometan  Arab,  but  still  more  sacred 
to  the  Arab  Christian,  whose  door  is  open  to  him  at  all  hours  ; 
the  kid  is  killed  to  do  him  honor,  the  rush-mat  surrendered  to  af¬ 
ford  him  a  bed.  In  every  village  there  is  a  church  or  chapel,  in 
which  the  rites  of  the  Catholic  worship  are  daily  celebrated  in 
the  Syriac  tongue.  At  that  part  of  the  service  where  the  gospel 
of  the  day  is  introduced,  the  priest  turns  towards  the  congrega¬ 
tion  and  reads  it  to  them  in  Arabic.  Religion,  more  lasting  than 
the  human  race,  preseryes  its  lan  guage  sacred,  when  the  people 
have  lost  theirs. 

The  Maronites  are  brave,  and,  like  all  the  mountaineers,  war¬ 
riors  by  nature.  They  muster,  at  the  bidding  of  the  Emir  Bes- 
chir,  to  the  number  of  thirty  or  forty  thousand  men,  either  to  de¬ 
fend  the  passes  of  their  mountains,  or  to  rush  upon  the  plain,  and 
make  Damascus  or  the  towns  of  Syria  tremble.  The  Turks  dare 
not  penetrate  into  Lebanon  while  these  people  are  at  peace 
amongst  themselves  ;  the  Pachas  of  Acre  and  Damascus  have 
never  ventured  to  set  foot  there,  except  when  intestine  divisions 
called  them  in  to  the  succor  of  either  party.  I  may  deceive  my¬ 
self,  but  I  imagine  that  great  destinies  may  be  reserved  to  the  Ma- 
ronite  people, — a  virgin  nation,  primitive  in  its  morals,  religion, 
and  courage  ;  possessed  of  the  traditional  virtues  of  the  Patri¬ 
archs,  of  property,  a  portion  of  liberty,  and  much  patriotism  ;  and 
who,  by  similarity  of  religion,  and  the  relations  of  faith  and  com¬ 
merce,  are  every  day  more  and  more  impregnated  with  western 
civilization.  While  surrounding  communities  fall  into  impotence 
and  the  decay  of  age,  it  alone  appears  perpetually  to  renew  its 
youth,  and  acquire  fresh  accessions  of  strength.  In  proportion  as 
Syria  becomes  depopulated,  this  people  will  descend  from  their 
mountain  fastnesses,  found  commercial  towns  on  the  sea-shore, 
cultivate  the  fertile  plains  now  left  to  jackals  and  gazelles,  and 


36 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


establish  a  new  dominion  in  countries  in  which  the  old  are  fast 
expiring.  Should  a  man  of  talent  shortly  spring  up  among  them, 
whether  from  the  ranks  of  the  all-powerful  clergy,  or  from  the 
family  of  some  Emir  or  Scheik  whom  they  revere — a  man  capable 
of  estimating  the  future,  and  disposed  to  ally  himself  with  Euro¬ 
pean  powers,  he  would  have  no  difficulty  in  re-enacting  the  won¬ 
ders  of  Mehemet  Ali,  Pacha  of  Egypt,  and  would  leave  behind 
him  the  veritable  gem  of  an  Arabian  empire.  Europe  is  inter¬ 
ested  in  the  realization  of  this  wish  ;  she  would  have  a  colony 
ready  to  her  hands  on  those  teeming  shores ;  and  Syria,  re-peo¬ 
pled  with  a  Christian  and  industrious  nation,  would  enrich  the 
Mediterranean  with  a  commerce  which  now  languishes;  open  the 
roud  to  India  ;  drive  back  the  wandering  and  barbarous  tribes  of 
the  desert;  and  restore  life  to  the  East.  There  are  more  hopes 
for  the  future  here  than  in  Egypt.  Egypt  has  but  one  man,  Leba¬ 
non  has  a  people. 

THE  DRUSES. 

The  Druses,  who,  with  the  Metoualis  and  the  Maronites, 
form  the  principal  population  of  Lebanon,  have  long  passed  for 
a  European  colony  left  in  the  East  by  the  Crusaders ;  but  nothing 
can  be  more  absurd.  The  characteristics  which  abide  the  longest 
by  a  people,  are  religion  and  language.  Now  the  Druses  are, 
most  of  them,  idolaters,  and  speak  Arabic.  They  cannot,  there¬ 
fore,  be  descended  from  a  Frank  or  a  Christian  nation.  They 
are  most  probably,  like  the  Maronites,  an  Arab  tribe  of  the 
desert,  who  having  refused  to  adopt  the  religion  of  the  prophet, 
and  being  persecuted  by  the  new  believers,  took  refuge  in  the 
inaccessible  solitudes  of  the  mighty  Lebanon,  there  to  defend  their 
Gods  and  their  liberty.  They  have  prospered  ;  have  often  as¬ 
sumed  the  predominance  over  the  various  populations  of  Syria  ; 
and  the  history  of  their  principal  chief,  the  Emir  Fakar-el-Din. 
rendered  by  us,  Fakardin,  has  made  them  famous  even  in  Europe. 
This  prince  appears  in  his  history  about  the  commencement  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  Nominated  governor  of  the  Druses,  he 
gained  the  confidence  of  the  Porte  ;  repulsed  the  ferocious  tribes 
of  Balbec  ;  delivered  Tyre  and  St.  John  d’Acre  from  the  incur¬ 
sions  of  the  Bedouin  Arabs;  chased  the  Turkish  Aga  from 
Bayreut,  and  established  his  own  capitol  in  that  city.  It  was  in 
vain  that  the  Pachas  of  Aleppo  or  Damascus  menaced  or  de¬ 
nounced  him  to  the  Divan ;  he  corrupted  his  judges,  and  tri- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


87 


umphed  by  fraud  or  strength  over  all  his  enemies.  The  Porte, 
however,  after  repeated  warnings  of  the  progress  of  the  Druses, 
at  length  adopted  the  resolution  of  overpowering  them  by  force 
of  arms,  and  prepared  a  formidable  expedition.  The  Emir 
Fakar-el-Din  determined  to  temporize  ;  he  had  formed  alliances, 
aud  concluded  treaties  of  commerce,  with  the  princes  of  Italy,  and 
he  went  himself  to  solicit  the  assistance  which  those  princes  had 
promised  him.  Leaving  the  government  to  his  son  Ali,  he  em¬ 
barked  at  Bayreut,  and  took  refuge  at  the  Court  of  Medici,  in 
Florence. 

The  arrival  of  a  Mahometan  prince  in  Europe  awakened  at¬ 
tention  ;  a  report  was  spread  that  Fakar-el-Din  was  a  descendant 
of  the  princely  house  of  Lorraine,  and  that  the  Druses  derived 
their  origin  from  the  companions  of  a  Count  of  Druse,  who  re¬ 
mained  in  Lebanon  after  the  conclusion  of  the  Crusades.  In  vain 
were  the  Druses  mentioned  before  the  period  of  the  Crusades,  by 
the  historian  Benjamin  of  Tudela.  The  clever  adventurer  lent 
his  own  aid  to  propagate  the  new  opinion,  in  order  to  interest  the 
sovereigns  of  Europe  in  his  fate. 

After  nine  years’  residence  at  Florence,  the  Emir  Fakar-el- 
Din  returned  to  Syria.  His  son  Ali  had  meanwhile  repulsed  the 
Turks,  and  preserved  inviolate  the  provinces  conquered  by  his 
father,  to  whom  he  surrendered  the  command ;  but  the  emir, 
corrupted  by  the  arts  and  luxuries  of  Florence,  forgot  that  the 
condition  of  his  rule  was  the  power  of  inspiring  his  enemies  with 
respect  and  terror.  He  built  magnificent  chateaus  at  Bayreut, 
and  adorned  them  in  imitation  of  the  Italian  palaces,  with  statues 
and  paintings,  which  shocked  the  prejudices  of  the  Orientals. 
His  subjects  began  to  be  dissatisfied  ;  the  Sultan  Amurath  IV. 
becoming  incensed,  sent  the  Pacha  of  Damascus  with  another 
powerful  army  against  Fakar-el-Din  ;  and  while  the  Pacha  de¬ 
scended  from  Lebanon,  a  Turkish  fleet  blockaded  the  port  of 
Bayreut.  Ali,  eldest  son  of  the  emir,  and  governor  of  Saphad, 
was  killed  in  an  engagement  wiih  the  Damascenes ;  upon  which 
Fakar-el-Din  sent  his  second  son  on  board  the  admiral’s  vessel,  to 
implore  peace  ;  but  the  admiral  detained  the  child  a  prisoner  and 
refused  all  negociation.  The  emir  fled  in  consternation,  and  shut 
himself  up  with  a  small  number  of  devoted  friends  in  the  inac¬ 
cessible  Rock  of  Nilka,  which  the  Turks  vainly  besieged  for  a 
whole  year,  and  then  retired.  Fakar-el-Din,  thus  set  at  liberty, 
took  the  road  towards  his  mountain  ;  but,  betrayed  by  some  of  the 
companions  of  his  fortunes,  he  was  delivered  up  to  the  Lurks  and 

VOL.  II.  3 


38 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


conducted  to  Constantinople.  Prostrated  at  the  feet  of  Amurath, 
that  prince  at  first  treated  him  with  generosity  and  benevolence. 
He  gave  him  a  palace  and  slaves ;  but  shortly  afterwards  con¬ 
ceived  some  suspicions  of  his  vanquished  foe,  and  the  brave  and 
unfortunate  Fakar-el-Din  was  strangled. 

The  Turks,  whose  policy  contents  itself  with  clearing  their 
road  of  an  enemy  who  gives  them  umbrage — but  who,  beyond 
that,  respect  popular  customs  and  traditional  legitimacies — suf¬ 
fered  the  posterity  of  Fakar-el-Din  to  reign  undisturbed ;  and  it 
is  not  above  a  century  since,  by  the  death  of  the  last  descendant 
of  the  celebrated  emir,  the  sceptre  of  Lebanon  passed  to  another 
family,  that  of  Chab,  originally  from  Mecca,  and  whose  present 
chief,  the  aged  Emir  Beschir,  now  governs  those  countries. 

The  religion  of  the  Druses  is  a  mystery  which  no  traveler 
has  yet  been  able  to  penetrate.  I  have  been  acquainted  with 
several  Europeans  who  have  lived  many  years  among  them,  and 
who  have  confessed  to  me  their  ignorance  in  this  particular. 
Lady  Stanhope  herself,  who  might  form  an  exception,  from  her 
habitual  residence  in  the  midst  of  this  Arab  tribe,  and  from  the 
devotion  with  which  she  inspires  men  whose  language  she  speaks 
and  whose  manners  she  adopts,  told  me  that  even  to  her  the  reli¬ 
gion  of  the  Druses  was  a  mystery.  Most  travelers  who  have 
written  upon  them,  consider  their  worship  as  only  a  schism  of 
Mahometanism ;  but  I  am  convinced  that  they  are  mistaken. 
One  certain  fact  is,  that  the  religion  of  the  Druses  permits  them 
to  assume  the  creed  of  any  people  with  whom  they  communicate ; 
and  from  hence  is  derived  the  opinion  of  their  being  schismatic 
Mahometans,  though  this  opinion  is  not  to  the  purpose.  The  only 
ascertained  point  is,  that  they  adore  the  calf.  Their  institutions 
coincide  with  those  of  the  nations  of  antiquity.  They  are  divided 
into  two  castes, — Akkals,  or  the  sages,  and  djahels,  or  the  igno¬ 
rant  ;  and  their  form  of  worship  differs  according  as  they  belong 
to  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  castes.  They  hold  in  veneration 
the  names  of  Moses,  Mahomet,  and  Jesus.  They  assemble  once 
a  week,  each  caste  on  the  spot  consecrated  to  the  degree  of  initia¬ 
tion  it  has  attained ;  and  during  the  celebration  of  their  rites, 
guards  keep  sentry,  lest  any  profane  person  should  approach  the 
initiated,  a  temerity  punished  with  instant  death.  Women  are 
admitted  to  these  mysteries.  The  priests  or  Akkals  marry,  and 
have  a  sacerdotal  hierarchy.  The  chief  of  the  Akkals,  or  sove¬ 
reign  pontiff  of  the  Druses,  resides  at  the  village  of  El-Mutna. 

After  the  death  of  a  Druse,  there  is  a  meeting  round  his  tomb, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


89 


where  testimony  is  received  upon  his  life ;  if  it  is  favorable,  the 
Akkal  exclaims,  “  May  the  Almighty  be  merciful  to  thee  !”  If 
condemnatory,  the  priests  and  his  assistant  keep  silence.  The 
people  at  large  believe  in  the  transmigration  of  souls ;  and  that 
if  the  life  of  a  Druse  has  been  pure,  he  will  revive  in  a  man 
favored  by  fortune,  brave,  and  beloved  by  his  countrymen  ;  if  he 
has  been  base  or  cowardly,  he  will  return  under  the  form  of  a 
camel  or  a  dog. 

The  schools  for  children  are  numerous,  under  the  direction  of 
the  Akkals,  and  they  are  taught  to  read  the  Koran.  Sometimes, 
when  there  are  but  few  Druses  in  a  village,  and  a  school  is 
wanting,  they  suffer  their  children  to  be  instructed  with  those  of 
Christians,  and  content  themselves  with  erasing  the  traces  of 
Christianity  from  their  minds  when,  at  more  mature  years,  they 
are  initiated  into  their  own  mysterious  rites.  Women,  as  well  as 
men,  are  admitted  to  the  sacerdotal  office ;  divorce  is  frequent, 
and  impunity  for  adultery  purchased.  Hospitality  is  sacred,  and 
neither  bribe  nor  menace,  whatever  its  nature,  could  induce  a 
Druse  to  betray,  even  to  his  prince,  the  guest  who  had  confided 
himself  to  the  sanctuary  of  his  threshold.  At  the  time  of  the  battle 
of  Navarino,  the  European  inhabitants  of  the  Syrian  towns,  dread¬ 
ing  the  vengeance  of  the  Turks,  retired  for  several  months  among 
the  Druses,  and  there  lived  in  perfect  security.  Their  maxim,  like 
that  of  the  Gospel,  is,  that  all  men  are  brothers,  but  they  observe 
it  better  than  we  do :  our  dogmas  are  Evangelical,  our  laws 
Pagan. 

In  my  opinion,  the  race  of  the  Druses  may  lay  claim  to  the 
highest  antiquity,  although  its  source  is  lost  in  the  obscurity  of 
remote  ages.  The  cast  of  their  physiognomy  is  nearly  allied  to 
the  Jewish,  and  their  adoration  of  the  calf  would  lead  me  to  be¬ 
lieve  them  either  of  Samaritan  origin,  or  descended  from  those 
people  of  Arabia  Petrsea,  who  incited  the  Jews  to  that  species  of 
idolatry. 

Accustomed  at  the  present  day  to  a  sort  of  fraternity  with  the 
Christian  Maronites,  and  detesting  the  Mahometan  yoke, — nume¬ 
rous,  rich,  susceptible  of  discipline,  attached  to  agriculture  and 
commerce,  they  will  easily  incorporate  with  the  Maronite  people, 
and  will  advance  with  the  same  pace  in  civilization,  provided  their 
religious  rites  are  respected. 

THE  METOUALIS. 

The  Metoualis,  who  form  about  a  third  part  of  the  population 
of  Lower  Lebanon,  are  Mahometans,  of  the  sect  of  Ali,  which  is 


40 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


dominant  in  Persia,  whereas  the  Turks  belong  to  the  sect  of  Omar, 
a  schism  which  was  effected  in  Islamism  in  the  thirty-sixth  year 
of  the  Hegira.  The  partisans  of  Ali  anathematize  Omar  as  a 
usurper  of  the  Kaliphates  :  Hussein  and  Ali  are  their  saints.  The 
Metoualis,  like  the  Persians,  neither  eat  nor  drink  with  the  follow¬ 
ers  of  any  other  sect  than  their  own,  and  will  break  the  glass  or 
dish  which  a  stranger  has  used.  They  consider  themselves  de¬ 
filed  even  if  their  vesture  touches  ours  ;  yet,  as  they  are  generally 
weak  and  despised  in  Syria,  they  accommodate  themselves  to  cir¬ 
cumstances,  and  I  have  had  many  in  my  service  who  did  not  very 
rigorously  observe  these  intolerant  precepts.  Their  origin  is  as¬ 
certained  ;  they  were  masters  of  Balbec  about  the  sixteenth  cen¬ 
tury  ;  their  tribe,  as  it  enlarged,  extended  itself  at  first  over  the 
sides  of  Lebanon,  about  the  Desert  of  Bekaa,  which  they  after¬ 
wards  crossed,  and  mingled  with  the  Druses,  in  that  part  of  the 
mountain  that  hangs  over  Tyre  and  Saide.  The  Emir  Yousef, 
jealous  of  their  vicinity,  armed  the  Druses  against  them,  and  dis¬ 
lodged  them  from  Saphad  and  the  mountains  of  Galilee ;  Daher, 
Pacha  of  Acre,  admitted  them,  and  formed  an  alliance  with  them 
in  1760,  when  they  were  sufficiently  numerous  to  furnish  him 
with  ten  thousand  horsemen. 

At  this  time  they  took  possession  of  the  ruins  of  Tyre,  now  a 
village  on  the  sea-coast  under  the  name  of  Sour  ;  fought  valiantly 
against  the  Druses,  and  completely  defeated  the  Emir  Yousef’s 
army,  twenty  thousand  strong,  though  their  own  number  was  only 
five  hundred ;  but  rage  and  vengeance  had  converted  them  into 
so  many  heroes,  and  the  intestine  disputes  which  divided  the  Druses 
(between  the  parties  of  the  Emir  Mansour  and  the  Emir  Yousef) 
contributed  to  the  success  of  the  Metoualis.  They  afterwards 
abandoned  Daher,  Pacha  of  Acre,  and  their  desertion  caused  his 
ruin  and  death,  which  his  successor,  Djezzar  Pacha,  cruelly  re¬ 
venged  upon  them.  From  the  year  1777,  Djezzar  Pacha,  master 
of  Saide  and  Acre,  pursued  unremittingly  the  destruction  of  this 
people,  and  his  persecutions  compelled  them  to  effect  a  reconcilia¬ 
tion  with  the  Druses;  they  joined  the  party  of  the  Emir  Yousef, 
and  though  reduced  to  only  seven  or  eight  hundred  warriors,  they 
achieved  more  in  one  campaign  for  the  common  cause  than  the 
twenty  thousand  Druses  and  Maronites  assembled  at  Dair-el- 
Kamar.  Single  handed,  they  carried  the  strong  fortress  of  Mar- 
Djebaa,  and  put  to  the  sword  eight  hundred  Arnauts  who  defended 
it.  Driven  from  Balbec  the  following  year,  after  a  desperate  re¬ 
sistance,  they  took  refuge  to  the  number  of  five  or  six  hundred 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


41 


families,  amongst  the  Druses  and  Maronites ;  afterwards  re¬ 
descended  to  the  valley,  and  a  portion  of  them  now  occupy  the 
magnificent  ruins  of  Heliopolis,  though  the  greater  part  are  settled 
on  the  slopes  and  in  the  valleys  of  Lebanon,  on  the  Sour  side. 
The  principality  of  Balbec  has  of  late  been  the  subject  of  an  im¬ 
placable  strife  between  two  brothers  of  the  Harfousch  family, 
Djadjha,  and  Sultan,  who  have  alternately  expelled  each  other 
from  that  heap  of  ruins,  and  have  lost  in  the  struggle  more  than 
eighty  members  of  their  own  house.  Since  1810,  the  Emir 
Djadjha  has  definitively  reigned  in  Balbec. 

THE  ANSARIANS. 

Volney  has  given  the  most  judicious  accounts  of  the  Ansari- 
ans,  who  occupy  the  western  part  of  the  chain  of  Lebanon,  and 
the  plains  of  Latakia.  Idolaters,  like  the  Druses,  like  them  also 
they  envelop  their  religious  rites  in  the  occult  mysteries  of  initia¬ 
tion.  I  shall  only  concern  myself  with  that  portion  of  their  his¬ 
tory  which  is  posterior  to  the  year  1807. 

At  that  time  a  tribe  of  Ansarians,  feigning  a  quarrel  with 
their  chief,  quitted  their  territory  in  the  mountains,  and  came  to 
ask  an  asylum  and  protection  of  the  Emir  of  Maszyad,  who, 
eagerly  seizing  so  favorable  an  opportunity  of  weakening  his  ene¬ 
mies  by  dividing  them,  received  the  Ansarians,  as  well  as  their 
Scheik,  Mahmoud,  within  the  walls  of  Maszyad,  and  carried  his 
hospitality  to  the  extent  of  dislodging  part  of  the  inhabitants  to 
make  room  for  the  fugitives.  For  several  months  all  went  on 
quietly  :  but  one  day  when  most  of  the  Ismaelites  of  Maszyad 
had  left  the  town  to  work  in  the  fields,  at  an  appointed  signal,  the 
Ansarians  fell  upon  the  Emir  and  his  son,  stabbed  them,  took  pos¬ 
session  of  the  castle,  massacred  all  the  Ismaelites  who  remained 
in  the  town,  and  set  it  on  fire.  The  next  day  a  great  number  of 
Ansarians  joined  the  agents  of  this  detestable  conspiracy,  which 
a  whole  nation  had  kept  secret  for  four  or  five  months.  About 
three  hundred  Ismaelites  perished,  and  the  rest  fled  to  Hama, 
Homs,  and  Tripoli. 

The  manners  and  devotional  exercises  of  the  Ansarians  led 
Burkhardt  to  believe  that  they  were  an  expatriated  tribe  from 
Hindostan.  It  is  certain  that  they  were  established  in  Syria  long 
previous  to  the  Ottoman  conquest.  Some  of  them  are  still  idola¬ 
ters  ;  and  the  worship  of  the  dog,  which  seems  to  have  been  held 
in  honor  by  the  ancient  Syrians,  and  to  have  given  its  name  to 


42 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


the  Dog  River,  Nahr-el-Kelb,  near  the  ancient  Berytus,  is  said  to 
be  retained  among  several  families  of  the  Ansarians.  This  peo¬ 
ple  is  on  the  decline,  and  might  be  easily  driven  out,  or  reduced 
to  subjection,  by  the  Druses  and  Maronites. 

18th  November. 

I  returned  from  an  excursion  to  the  Monastery  of  Antoura, 
one  of  the  finest  and  most  celebrated  of  Lebanon.  On  quitting 
Bayreut,  the  road  runs  for  some  miles  along  the  sea-shore,  under 
an  arcade  of  trees  of  all  forms  and  foliages  : — mostly  fruit  trees, 
as  fig,  pomegranate,  orange,  aloes,  and  the  sycamore  fig,  the  lat¬ 
ter  a  gigantic  tree,  of  which  the  luxuriant  fruit,  resembling  small 
figs,  instead  of  hanging  from  the  extremity  of  boughs,  is  attached 
to  the  trunk  and  branches,  like  moss.  After  crossing  the  river 
over  the  Roman  bridge,  the  appearance  of  which  I  have  before 
described,  the  road  follows,  as  far  as  Cape  Batroun,  a  sandy  flat, 
formed  by  an  arm  of  Lebanon  projecting  into  the  sea,  and  con¬ 
sisting  of  one  rock,  through  which,  in  remote  ages,  a  road  has 
been  scooped,  commanding  a  magnificent  view.  The  sides  of  the 
rock  are  in  many  places  covered  with  Greek,  Latin,  and  Syriac 
inscriptions,  and  with  symbolical  figures  sculptured  upon  its  face, 
whose  meaning  cannot  now  be  deciphered  ;  probably  they  relate 
to  the  worship  of  Adonis  formerly  practised  in  these  regions  ;  for, 
according  to  tradition,  temples  and  funereal  solemnities  were 
dedicated  to  him  near  the  spot  where  he  perished,  which  is  be¬ 
lieved  to  be  on  the  banks  of  the  stream  we  have  just  crossed.  4 

On  descending  from  this  lofty  and  picturesque  platform,  the 
scenery  suddenly  changes  its  character.  The  gaze  of  the  trav¬ 
eler  is  immediately  riveted  on  a  deep  contracted  gorge  of  the 
rock,  through  which  his  road  is  about  to  lead ;  here  the  Nahr-el- 
Kelb,  or  Dog  River,  flows  noiselessly  between  two  perpendicular 
walls  of  rock,  two  or  three  hundred  feet  in  height ;  in  some  parts 
occupying  the  whole  ravine,  in  others  leaving  between  its  waters 
and  the  rock  a  narrow  margin  covered  with  trees,  sugar  canes, 
and  rushes,  which  form  a  thick  green  arch  on  the  banks  and 
sometimes  over  the  whole  bed  of  the  river.  A  ruined  Khan  juts 
out  on  a  point  of  the  rock  upon  the  very  brink  of  the  water,  oppo¬ 
site  a  bridge,  of  which  the  arch  is  so  tall  and  slender  that  it  can¬ 
not  be  crossed  without  trembling.  Arab  patience  has  cut  in  the 
face  of  the  rocks,  forming  this  defile,  some  narrow  stone  steps, 
which  although  they  hang  almost  perpendicularly  over  the  flood, 
must  yet,  in  all  their  alternations  of  ascent  and  descent,  be  trav¬ 
ersed  on  horseback.  We  trusted  to  the  instinct  of  our  sure- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLV  LAND. 


43 


footed  steeds ;  but  the  steepness  of  the  steps,  the  smooth  polish  of 
the  stones,  and  the  depth  of  the  precipice,  made  it  at  times  impos¬ 
sible  not  to  close  our  eyes.  On  this  very  path,  a  few  years 
since,  the  Pope’s  last  Legate  to  the  Maronites  was  precipitated  by 
a  stumble  of  his  horse  into  the  gulf  below,  and  perished.  It 
issues  upon  an  elevated  platform  smiling  with  tillage,  vineyards, 
and  little  Maronite  villages.  On  an  opposite  hill  appears  a  pretty 
new  house,  of  Italian  architecture,  with  porticoes,  terraces,  and 
balustrades,  constructed  by  Signor  Lozanna,  Bishop  of  Abydos, 
the  present  Legate  of  the  Holy  See  in  Syria,  for  his  winter  re¬ 
treat.  He  passes  the  summer  in  the  Monastery  of  Kanobin,  the 
residence  of  the  Patriarch,  and  the  ecclesiastical  capital  of  the 
Maronites,  situated  much  higher  up  the  mountain,  almost  inacces¬ 
sible,  and  in  the  winter  buried  in  snow. 

Signor  Lozanna,  a  man  of  elegant  manners,  of  Italian  habits, 
with  a  cultivated  mind,  profound  erudition,  and  an  acute  and 
solid  understanding,  has  been  happily  chosen  by  the  Court  of 
Rome  for  representing  her  policy  and  managing  her  influence 
with  the  superior  Maronite  clergy  ;  and  he  would  be  equally 
well  adapted  to  these  duties  either  at  Vienna  or  Paris.  He  ex¬ 
hibits,  indeed,  a  model  of  those  Roman  prelates,  inheritors  of  the 
great,  noble,  and  peculiar  diplomacy  of  that  government,  with 
which  power  is  nothing,  policy  and  personal  dignity  every  thing. 

Signor  Lozanna  is  a  Piedmontese  ;  he  will  certainly  not  be 
long  stationary  in  these  solitudes  ;  Rome  will  employ  him  more 
usefully  in  a  more  stormy  theatre.  He  is  one  of  those  men  who 
justify  fortune,  and  have  her  favors  written  beforehand  on  an 
active  and  intelligent  countenance.  He  judiciously  affects, 
among  these  people,  an  Oriental  luxury  and  a  solemnity  of  cos¬ 
tume  and  manners,  in  the  absence  of  which  the  Asiatics  recognize 
neither  sanctity  nor  authority.  He  has  adopted  the  Arabian 
costume.  His  immense  and  carefully  combed  beard  falls  in 
golden  waves  over  his  purple  robe,  and  his  mare,  of  the  purest 
Arabian  blood,  lively  and  docile  to  his  hand,  may  vie  with  the 
most  beautiful  mares  of  the  Scheiks  of  the  Desert.  We  soon 
perceived  him  coming  to  meet  us,  followed  by  a  numerous  escort, 
and  fearlessly  wheeling  about  on  the  rocky  precipices  over  which 
we  advanced  with  the  most  timid  caution.  After  the  first  words 
of  compliment  he  conducted  us  to  his  charming  villa,  where  a 
collation  awaited  us,  and  soon  afterwards  accompanied  us  to  the 
Monastery  of  Antoura,  where  he  provisionally  resided.  Two 
young  Lazarite  priests,  who  had  left  France  since  the  Revolution 


44 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


of  July,  r.re  now  ihe  sole  occupants  of  this  fine  and  vast  convent, 
formerly  built  by  the  Jesuits,  who  have  frequently  tried  to  estab¬ 
lish  their  mission  and  influence  among  the  Arabs,  but  have  never 
yet  succeeded,  and  have  little  prospect  of  success  in  our  days, 
for  a  very  simple  reason — there  are  no  polities  in  the  religion  of 
the  East ;  perfectly  distinct  from  the  civil  power,  it  confers 
neither  influence  nor  state  employment.  'I  he  state  is  Mahome¬ 
tan  ;  Catholicism  is  free,  but  has  no  human  means  of  domination  ; 
now  as  it  is  by  human  means,  chiefly,  that  the  Jesuitical  system 
has  endeavored  to  act,  and  does  act,  upon  religion,  this  country 
dees  not  suit  it.  Religion  is  here  divided  into  orthodox  and 
schismatic  ccmmunicns,  with  each  of  whom  faith  is  a  portion  of 
the  blood  and  spiritual  inheritance  of  families. 

Aversion,  indeed  irreconcilable  hatred,  exist  in  a  stronger  de¬ 
gree  between  the  various  Christian  communions  than  between  the 
Turks  and  Christians.  Conversions  are,  in  these  countries,  im¬ 
possible,  since  a  change  of  communion  would  brand  with  per¬ 
petual  opprobrium,  and  would  often  be  punished  with  death  by  a 
tribe,  a  village,  or  a  family.  As  for  the  Mahometans,  conversion 
amongst  them  is  unheard  of.  Their  religion  is  a  practical  Deism, 
the  morality  of  which  is  the  same  in  principle  as  that  of  Chris¬ 
tianity,  but  is  not  founded  on  the  doctrine  of  the  Incarnation  of 
the  Deity.  The  doctrine  of  Mahometanism  is  simply  a  belief  in 
Divine  inspiration,  manifested  by  a  man  w  iser  and  more  favored 
with  the  celestial  emanation  lhan  his  fellow'-crealures.  Some 
miraculous  operations  have  since  been  mixed  upwiih  the  mission 
of  Mahomet,  hut  these  legendary  miracles  of  Islamism  do  not 
form  the  foundation  of  the  religion,  arid  are  even  rejected  by  en¬ 
lightened  Turks.  All  religions  have  their  legends,  their  absurd 
traditions,  their  popular  aspects;  the  philosophical  view  of  Ma¬ 
hometanism  is  pure  from  these  grosser  mixtures  ;  it  consists  only 
in  resignation  10  the  will  of  God,  and  charity  towards  men.  I 
have  conversed  with  a  great  number  of  truly  religious  Turks  and 
Arabians  who  admitted  nothing  but  what  is  reasonable  and  human 
in  their  creed.  Their  reason  had  no  efforts  to  make  to  accept 
dogmas  from  wrhich  it  revolted.  Theirs  was  practical  and  con¬ 
templative  Deism.  Such  men  are  not  easily  converted  ;  it  is 
natural  to  descend  from  marvelous  to  simple  doctrines,  but  not  to 
remount  from  the  simple  to  the  marvelous. 

Another  inconvenience  attended  the  interference  of  the  Jesuits 
amongst  the  Maronites.  The  very  nature  of  their  institution 
tends  to  create  parties,  and  pious  factions,  both  among  the  clergy 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


45 


and  laity  ;  the  very  ardor  of  their  zeal  inspires  either  enthusiasm 
or  hatred  ;  nothing  can  remain  lukewarm  within  their  sphere. 
The  superior  Maronite  clergy  could  not  regard  with  an  eye  of 
favor  the  establishment,  in  the  midst  of  them,  of  a  religious  fra¬ 
ternity  which  threatened  to  wrest  from  their  spiritual  domination 
a  part  of  the  Catholic  population. 

The  Jesuits  then  no  longer  exist  in  Syria;  but  within  these 
few  years,  two  young  abbes,  a  French,  and  a  German,  have  set¬ 
tled  there,  on  the  invitation  of  a  Maronite  bishop,  as  professors  in 
a  school  which  he  was  founding.  I  knew  these  two  excellent 
young  men,  both  full  of  faith,  and  burning  with  disinterested  zeal. 
They  neglected  no  .^eans  or  opportunity  of  propagating  among 
the  Druses,  their  neighbors,  some  ideas  of  Christianity;  but  the 
effect  of  their  procedings  was  confined  to  baptizing  in  secret,  and 
unknown  even  to  the  parents,  young  children  of  families  into 
which  they  had  introduced  themselves  under  pretence  of  giving 
medical  advice.  They  struck  me  as  little  disposed  to  submit  to 
the  somewhat  ignorant  forms  of  the  Maronite  bishops,  in  matters 
of  education  ;  and  I  believe  they  will  return  to  Europe  without 
having  succeeded  in  naturalizing  a  taste  for  more  extended  know¬ 
ledge.  The  French  father  was  worthy  of  a  professorship  at  Rome 
or  Paris. 

The  Convent  of  Antoura,  after  the  extinction  of  the  order  of 
Jesuits,  passed  to  the  Lazarites  ;  the  two  young  fathers  who  in¬ 
habited  it  often  came  to  visit  us  at  Bayreut,  and  afforded  us  a  soci¬ 
ety  as  agreeable  as  unexpected  ;  amiable,  modest,  simple,  solely 
occupied  with  severe  and  elevating  studies,  versed  in  all  the 
affairs  of  Europe,  and  participating  the  impulse  which  urges 
forward  the  spirit  of  the  times ;  their  general  and  intelligent  con¬ 
versation  delighted  us  the  more  as  being  rarely  to  be  met  with  in 
those  desolate  regions. 

When  we  passed  an  evening  with  them,  and  discussed  the 
political  events  of  our  country,  the  intellectual  societies  decaying 
or  springing  up  in  France,  the  writers  who  dispute  possession  of 
the  press,  or  the  orators  who  alternately  obtain  that  of  the  tribune  ; 
or  when  we  spoke  of  the  doctrines  of  futurity,  or  those  of  the  St. 
Simonians,  we  might  have  imagined  ourselves  within  two  leagues 
of  the  Rue  du  Bac  chatting  with  men  who  had  left  Paris  in  the 
morning  to  return  to  it  in  the  evening.  The  two  Lazarites  were 
at  the  same  time  models  of  sanctity,  and  of  simple  and  pious 
fervor.  One  of  them  was  a  great  invalid  ;  the  bleak  air  of  Leb¬ 
anon  irritated  his  lungs  and  was  shortening  his  days.  A  word 

3* 


VOL.  II. 


46 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


written  to  his  superiors  would  have  obtained  his  recall  to  France, 
but  he  would  not  take  it  on  his  conscience.  He  came  to  consult 
M.  Laroyere,  who  accompanied  me,  and  asked  him  if,  in  char¬ 
acter  of  physician,  he  could  formally  and  conscientiously  give  it 
as  his  opinion  that  the  air  of  Syria  was  fatal  to  his  constitution. 
M.  Laroyere,  with  a  conscience  as  scrupulous  as  the  young 
priest’s,  hesitated  to  pass  so  decided  an  opinion,  and  the  worthy 
clergyman  repressed  his  complaints  and  staid. 

These  ecclesiastics,  lost  as  it  were  in  the  space  of  that  vast 
monastery,  where  a  single  Arab  servant  attended  upon  them,  re¬ 
ceived  us  with  that  cordiality  which  the  name  of  countryman  in¬ 
spires  in  those  who  meet  in  far  distant  regions.  We  passed  two 
days  with  them,  and  were  each  accommodated  with  a  large  cell 
containing  a  bed  and  chairs — furniture  quite  unusual  in  these 
mountains. 

The  convent  is  situated  on  the  skirts  of  a  pine  wood,  in  the 
hollow  of  a  valley  which,  at  the  mid-height  of  Lebanon,  enjoys, 
through  an  opening  defile,  a  boundless  vista  over  the  coasts  and 
sea  of  Syria.  The  remainder  of  the  landscape  is  filled  up  with 
spiral  summits  of  gray  rock,  crowned  with  villages  and  large  Ma- 
ronite  monasteries.  Some  pines,  orange  and  fig  trees  grow  here 
and  there  in  the  more  sheltered  nooks  of  the  rocks  and  near  the 
torrents  or  springs.  It  is  altogether  a  scene  worthy  of  Naples  or 
of  the  Gulf  of  Genoa. 

The  windows  of  our  cells  looked  on  those  of  a  convent  of  Ma- 
ronite  women,  and  the  arrival  of  a  company  of  foreigners  in  their 
neighborhood,  appeared  to  excite  a  lively  sensation  among  the 
nuns,  who  belong  to  the  principal  families  of  Lebanon. 

No  social  utility  is  here  attached  to  female  convents.  Volney, 
in  his  Syrian  Travels,  mentions  the  convent  near  Antoura,  and 
the  horrible  atrocities  practised,  according  to  rumor,  by  a  woman 
named  Hindia  upon  her  novices.  The  name  and  history  of  the 
said  Hindia  are  still  very  rife  in  the  mountains.  Imprisoned 
many  years  by  order  of  the  Maronite  patriarch,  her  repentance 
and  good  conduct  at  length  procured  her  liberty ;  and  she  died 
not  long  since,  a  reputed  saint,  among  some  Christians  of  her  sect. 
She  was  a  fanatic,  either  real  or  pretended,  and  succeeded  in  ex¬ 
citing  fanaticism  in  a  few  simple  and  credulous  imaginations. 
This  Arab  land  is  the  soil  of  prodigies  ;  any  thing  will  take  root 
in  it,  and  any  credulous  or  fanatical  person  may  become  a  pro¬ 
phet  in  turn  ;  a  truth  of  which  Lady  Stanhope  will  furnish  an  addi¬ 
tional  manifestation.  This  disposition  to  the  marvelous  proceeds 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


47 


from  two  causes  ;  a  religious  feeling  strongly  developed,  and  a 
want  of  due  equilibrium  between  the  imagination  and  the  reason. 
Phantoms  appear  only  in  the  night,  and  the  land  of  ignorance  is 
always  likewise  that  of  miracles. 

The  terrace  of  the  convent  of  Antoura,  in  which  we  walked 
part  of  each  day,  is  shaded  by  the  magnificent  orange  trees,  cited 
by  Volney  as  the  finest  and  most  ancient  in  Syria.  They  have 
not  yet  perished ;  but  throw  their  deep  and  balmy  shadow  over 
the  garden  and  roof  of  the  convent,  like  walnut  trees  of  fifty  years 
growth  in  our  climate  ;  and  still  bear  on  their  trunks  the  names  of 
Volney  and  of  some  English  travelers,  who  like  ourselves  had 
rested  at  their  feet. 

The  group  of  mountains  which  comprises  Antoura  is  known 
under  the  name  of  Kesrovan,  or  the  Chain  of  Castravan,  extend¬ 
ing  from  the  Nahr-el-Kebir  to  the  Nahr-el-Kelb.  This  constitutes 
the  country  properly  called  Maronite ;  which  belongs  to  that  peo¬ 
ple,  and  to  which  their  privileges  are  limited,  though  they  are 
daily  spreading  themselves  over  the  country  of  the  Druses,  and 

I  carrying  with  them  their  laws  and  their  morals. 

The  principal  production  of  these  mountains  is  silk.  The 
rniri ,  or  territorial  impost,  is  fixed  in  proportion  to  the  mulberry 
trees  possessed  by  each  proprietor.  The  Turks  demand  from  the 
Emir  Beschir  one  or  two  miris  as  an  annual  tribute,  and  the  Emir 
no  doubt  secures  several  more  on  his  own  account ;  nevertheless, 
and  in  spite  of  the  Maronite  complaints  of  the  excess  of  taxation, 
these  imposts  are  not  to  be  compared  in  degree  with  what  we  pay 
in  France  or  England  ;  it  is  not  the  rate  of  taxation,  but  its  ine¬ 
quality  and  arbitrary  exaction  that  oppresses  a  nation.  If  the 
taxes  in  Turkey  were  legal  and  fixed,  they  would  scarcely  be  felt ; 
but  while  there  is  no  determinate  legal  tax  there,  neither  is  there 
any,  or  only  a  languishing  and  uncertain  agricultural  property— 
that  interest,  on  the  flourishing  condition  of  which  the  riches  of  a 
nation  depend.  The  village  scheiks  assess  the  impost,  and  appro¬ 
priate  a  portion  to  themselves. 

On  the  whole,  these  people  are  happy.  Exempted  from  the 
oppressions  of  the  Turks,  their  nominal  masters,  who  fear  them, 
and  dare  not  invade  their  provinces,  their  religion  is  free  and  hon- 

!ored  ;  their  churches  and  convents  cover  the  summits  of  the  hills ; 
their  bells,  which  they  love  as  the  sound  of  liberty  and  indepen¬ 
dence,  chime  night  and  day  the  hours  of  prayer  in  their  valleys  ; 
they  are  governed  by  their  own  chiefs,  chosen  according  to  their 
own  customs,  or  succeeding  by  inheritance  among  their  principal 


48 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


families  ;  a  rigorous  but  just  police  maintains  order  and  security 
in  the  villages  ;  property  is  recognized,  guaranteed,  and  transmis¬ 
sible  from  father  to  son ;  commerce  is  active  ;  their  morals  are 
perfectly  simple  and  pure ;  and  I  have  seen  no  population  in  the 
world  on  whose  features  the  impress  of  health,  generosity  of  spir¬ 
it,  andcivilization,  was  more  legible  than  on  those  of  the  inhabit¬ 
ants  of  Lebanon.  The  information  of  the  people,  though  limited 
to  reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  and  the  Catechism,  is  so  far  uni¬ 
versal,  and  gives  the  Maronites  a  legitimate  ascendency  over  the 
other  Syrian  nations.  I  can  compare  them  only  to  the  peasants 
of  Saxony  and  Scotland. 

We  returned  to  Bayreut  by  the  shore,  the  mountains  adjoin¬ 
ing  which  are  overspread  with  the  monasteries,  constructed  in  the 
style  of  Florentine  villas  of  the  middle  ages.  A  village  is  plant¬ 
ed  on  every  eminence,  crowned  with  a  forest  of  pines,  and  tra¬ 
versed  by  a  torrent,  falling  in  a  brilliant  cascade  to  the  bottom  of 
a  ravine.  Little  fishing  ports  abound  through  the  length  of  the  in¬ 
dented  coast,  full  of  small  boats,  attached  to  the  moles  or  rocks  ; 
rich  palches  of  vineyard,  barley,  and  mulberry  trees,  slope  down 
from  the  villages  to  the  sea,  and  the  bell-towers  of  monasteries 
and  churches  are  seen  above  the  dark  verdure  of  the  fig  and  cy¬ 
press.  There  are  two  leagues  of  the  white  sandy  strand  separat¬ 
ing  the  foot  of  the  mountain  from  waves  limpid  and  blue  as  those 
of  a  river,  which  might  well  deceive  the  eye  of  a  traveler  ;  if  he 
could  forget  the  distance  of  eight  hundred  leagues  intervening 
between  him  and  Europe,  he  might  fancy  himself  on  the  borders 
of  the  Lake  of  Geneva,  between  Lausanne  and  Vevay,  or  on  the 
enchanting  banks  of  the  Saone,  between  Magon  and  Lyons  ;  only 
the  frame  of  the  picture  is  more  majestic  at  Antoura,  and  raising 
his  eyes  he  will  behold  the  snowy  tips  of  Sannin  piercing  the  sky, 
like  tongues  of  fire. 

editor’s  note. 

The  Author’s  journal  was  here  interrupted.  At  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  December  he  lost  his  only  daughter;  she  was  carried  off 
in  two  days,  at  the  moment  when  her  health,  declining  in  France, 
appeared  to  be  completely  re-established  by  the  air  of  Asia.  She 
died  in  the  arms  of  her  father  and  mother,  at  a  country-house  in 
the  environs  of  Bayreut,  wherein  M.  de  Lamartine  had  establish¬ 
ed  his  family  for  the  winter.  The  vessel,  which  he  had  sent  back 
to  Europe,  was  not  expected  to  return  to  the  coast  of  Syria,  and 
take  up  the  travelers,  till  the  month  of  May,  1833.  They  re- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


49 


mained,  therefore,  overpowered  by  the  stroke  of  Providence,  and 
without  any  other  diversion  of  their  grief  than  the  sympathizing 
tears  of  their  traveling  companions  and  friends.  In  May,  the 
ship  Alceste  returned  to  Bayreut,  according  to  agreement ;  but 
the  travelers,  to  spare  the  unhappy  mother  an  additional  pang, 
declined  to  embark  again  in  the  same  vessel  which  had  conveyed 
them  in  happiness  and  confidence  with  the  charming  child  whom 
they  had  lost.  M.  de  Lamartine  had  had  his  daughter’s  body 
embalmed,  that  it  might  be  carried  back  to  St.  Point,  where,  in 
her  last  moments,  she  had  testified  a  desire  of  being  interred. 
This  sacred  deposit  he  committed  to  the  Alceste,  which  was  to 
sail  in  company,  and  hiring  a  second  ship,  the  brig  Sophia,  Cap¬ 
tain  Couloune,  went  on  board  it  with  his  wife  and  friends. 

The  Journal  of  his  Notes  is  not  resumed  for  four  months  after 
his  misfortune. 

Previously  to  quitting  Syria,  he  visited  Damascus,  Balbec, 
and  several  other  remote  and  memorable  places,  and  these  ex¬ 
cursions  form  the  subject  of  the  remainder  of  this  volume. 


FRAGMENTS  OF  THE  POEMS  OF  ANTAR. 

FIRST  FRAGMENT. 

Antar  in  paying  one  day  a  visit  to  his  uncle  Mallek,  was 
agreeably  surprised  by  the  favorable  reception  he  experienced. 
For  a  welcome  so  new  to  him,  he  was  indebted  to  the  earnest  re¬ 
monstrances  of  King  Zoheir,  who  that  same  morning  had  strongly 
urged  Mallek  to  accede  at  length  to  his  nephew’s  desire,  and 
grant  him  in  marriage  his  cousin  Ablla,  whom  he  passionately 
loved.  The  wedding  preparations  were  discussed,  and  Ablla, 
wishing  to  know  her  cousin’s  intentions — “  I  propose,”  said  he, 
“  doing  every  thing  that  shall  be  proper  for  you.” 

“  Well,”  replied  she,  “  1  ask  nothing  but  what  has  been  con¬ 
ceded  to  others — what  Kaled-Eben-Mohareb  did  on  his  marriage 
with  his  cousin  Djida.” 

“  Simpleton,”  exclaimed  her  father,  in  an  angry  tone,  “who  has 
told  you  that  history  ? — “  No,  nephew,”  added  he,  “  we  will  not 
follow  that  example.” 

But  Antar,  happy  in  seeing  his  uncle  for  the  first  time  so 
kindly  disposed  towards  him,  and  desirous  of  satisfying  his  cousin, 


50 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


entreated  her  to  amuse  him  with  the  details  of  the  marriage  in 
question. 

“  The  following,’’  said  she,  “  is  the  account  given  me  by  the 
ladies,  who  came  to  compliment  me  on  your  return  : — Kaled,  on 
the  day  of  his  marriage,  killed  twenty  lions  with  his  own  hands, 
besides  causing  a  thousand  camels  to  be  slain,  which  belonged  to 
Malaeb-El-Assene,  an  emir  renowned  as  one  of  the  most  valiant 
of  warriors ;  he  invited  and  entertained  for  three  days,  three  nu¬ 
merous  tribes  ;  every  dish  which  he  placed  before  his  guests  con¬ 
tained  some  part  of  the  flesh  of  the  lions.  The  daughter  of  king 
Eben-El-Nazal  led  by  a  halter  the  naka  (camel)  which 
rode.” 

“  And  what  is  there  so  admirable  in  all  this  ?”  rejoined  Antar. 
“By  the  King  of  Lanyam  and  the  Hattim,  no  one  shall  lead  your 
naka  but  Djida  herself,  her  husband’s  head  suspended  round  her 
neck  in  a  bag.” 

Mallek  reproved  his  daughter,  with  feigned  displeasure,  for 
opening  such  a  subject ;  while  in  reality,  it  was  by  his  secret  in¬ 
stigation  that  his  women  had  detailed  all  the  particulars  to  Ablla, 
for  the  purpose  of  embarrassing  Antar.  Satisfied  with  having  by 
his  artifice  drawn  the  above  adjuration  from  his  nephew,  and  de¬ 
sirous  of  putting  an  end  to  the  discourse,  he  made  her  pour  him 
out  some  wine,  flattering  himself  that  the  attractions  of  his  daughter 
would  engage  him  still  deeper  in  an  enterprise  that  threatened  his 
destruction. 

At  night,  when  Antar  was  about  to  retire,  Mallek  entreated 
him  to  forget  Ablla’s  demands,  intending  indirectly  to  remind  him 
of  them.  Returning  home,  Antar  desired  his  brother  Chaiboub 
to  prepare  him  his  horse,  El-Abgea,  and  hastily  mounting  him, 
he  directed  his  steps  to  the  mountain  of  Ben-Touailek.  On  the 
road  he  related  to  Chaiboub  the  evening’s  occurrence. 

“  A  curse  upon  your  wicked  uncle,”  exclaimed  his  brother. 
“  From  whom,  think  you,  did  Ablla  learn  all  this  history,  but  from 
her  father,  who  is  desirous  to  get  rid  of  you,  by  plunging  you  into 
such  dangers.” 

Antar,  without  paying  the  smallest  attention  to  the  words  of 
Chaiboub,  begged  him  to  quicken  his  pace  that  they  might  arrive 
a  day  earlier,  so  eager  was  he  to  fulfil  his  engagement ;  he  then 
recited  the  following  verses. 

“  I  travel  over  bad  roads,  and  through  the  obscurity  of  night. 
Full  of  the  most  ardent  zeal,  I  traverse  the  desert,  with  my  sabre  for 
my  only  companion,  never  taking  account  of  the  number  of  my 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


51 


enemies.  Follow  me,  ye  lions !  and  ye  shall  see  the  earth 
strewed  with  carcasses,  serving  as  a  feast  to  the  birds  of  the  air. 

“  The  name  of  Kaled  (prosperous)  shall  be  no  longer  appro¬ 
priate,  since  I  am  in  search  of  him.  Djida  no  longer  shall  have 
reason  to  be  proud. 

“  Their  country  is  no  longer  in  safety  :  the  tigers  will  soon  be 
its  only  inhabitants. 

“  Ablla,  accept  my  congratulations,  on  all  that  shall  adorn 
your  approaching  triumph. 

“  O  thou  !  whose  eyes,  like  murderous  arrows,  have  pierced 
my  heart  with  incurable  wounds,  thy  presence  is  a  paradise,  thy 
absence  a  devouring  fire. 

“  O  Allan-El-Fandi !  Blessed  be  thou  by  the  Almighty  God. 

“  I  have  drunk  wine  more  delicious  than  nectar;  for  it  was 
poured  by  the  hand  of  beauty. 

“  As  long  as  light  visits  my  eyes  I  will  celebrate  her  charms ; 
and  if  I  die  for  her  my  name  cannot  perish.” 

As  he  ended,  the  day  began  to  break.  He  pursued  his  way 
towards  the  tribe  of  Ben-Zobaid.  Kaled,  their  hero,  was  held  in 
higher  consideration  by  the  tribe  than  the  king  himself.  So  for¬ 
midable,  indeed,  was  his  prowess,  that  his  very  name  sufficed  to 
make  the  neighboring  tribes  tremble.  His  history  and  that  of  his 
cousin  Djida,  is  as  follows  : — 

Two  Emirs — Mohareb,  Kaled’s  father,  and  Zaher,  Djida’s  fa¬ 
ther,  governed  the  Bedouins  called  Ben-Aumaya,  renowned  for 
their  bravery.  They  were  brothers  :  Mohareb,  the  elder,  was 
chief  commander  ;  and  Zaher  served  under  his  orders.  One  day, 
in  consequence  of  a  warm  dispute,  Mohareb  raised  his  hand 
against  his  brother,  who  returned  home,  his  heart  bursting  with 
resentment.  His  wife  discovering  the  cause  of  the  excited  state 
in  which  she  saw  him,  said “  You,  the  most  valiant  warrior  of 
our  tribe ; — you,  whose  strength  and  courage  are  so  far  renown¬ 
ed, — must  not  endure  such  an  affront.” 

“I  am  bound,”  answered  he,  “to  respect  an  elder  brother.” 

“  Well,  then,”  added  his  wife,  “  go,  establish  your  dwelling 
elsewhere ;  stay  not  here  in  humiliation  ;  adopt  the  precepts  of 
the  poet  who  thus  sings  : — 

“  ‘  Wherever  you  encounter  obstacles  and  disappointments, 
remove  to  a  distance,  though  you  leave  the  house  to  lament  its 
founder. 

“  ‘  The  body  may  every  where  find  food,  but  the  soul,  once 
lost,  cannot  be  recovered. 


52 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


We  should  never  cast  our  affairs  on  others,  we  can  always 
transact  them  best  ourselves. 

“  ‘  Lions  are  proud  because  they  are  free. 

“  1  Sooner  or  later  man  must  submit  to  his  destiny  ;  what 
signifies  the  place  of  his  death  ? 

“  ‘  Follow,  then,  the  counsels  of  experience.’  ” 

These  words  inspired  Zaher  with  the  resolution  of  removing 
with  all  that  belonged  to  him  ;  and,  at  the  moment  of  his  depar¬ 
ture,  he  recited  the  following  lines: — 

“  I  am  flying  far  from  thee,  to  a  distance  of  a  thousand  years, 
each  a  thousand  leagues  in  length.  Though  you  would  bestow 
on  me  a  thousand  Egypts,  each  watered  by  a  thousand  Niles,  I 
should  prefer  going  far  from  you  and  from  your  territories,  re¬ 
peating,  to  justify  our  separation,  a  maxim  that  will  never  be 
equalled, — £  Man  should  fly  from  regions  where  barbarism 
reigns.’  ” 

Zaher  set  out  on  his  journey,  and  traveled  till  he  reached 
the  tribe  of  Ben-Assac,  where  he  was  received  with  wonderful 
kindness,  and  elected  their  chief.  Zaher,  full  of  gratitude,  esta¬ 
blished  himself  with  them  ;  and  a  daughter  was  soon  after  born 
to  him,  named  Djida,  whom  he  passed  for  a  boy,  and  brought  up 
under  the  name  of  Giaudar ;  making  her  ride  with  him  on  horse¬ 
back,  accustoming  her  to  combat,  and  exercising  in  this  manner 
her  natural  talents  and  courage.  She  was  instructed  by  a  learn¬ 
ed  man  of  the  tribe  in  the  arts  of  reading  and  writing,  in  which 
she  soon  made  a  rapid  proficiency  ;  and  uniting  extreme  beauty 
to  these  high  qualities,  she  was  perfection  ;  and  it  was  every  * 
where  said,  “  Happy  is  the  woman  who  shall  marry  the  Emir 
Giaudar.” 

Her  father  was  t.ken  dangerously  ill,  and,  believing  himself 
at  the  point  of  death,  sent  for  his  wife,  and  thus  addressed  her :  — 
“I  conjure  you,  after  my  death,  to  contract  no  second  marriage 
that  might  separate  you  from  your  daughter ;  but  let  her  conti¬ 
nue  to  pass  for  a  man.  If,  when  I  am  gone,  you  do  not  enjoy 
here  the  same  consideration,  return  to  my  brother,  who,  I  am 
certain,  will  receive  you  kindly.  Carefully  preserve  your  rich¬ 
es,  for  money  will  every  where  ensure  you  respect.  Be  generous 
and  affable,  and  you  will  find  yourself  rewarded.  In  short,  act 
always  as  you  now  do.” 

After  some  days’  illness,  Zaher  recovered  ;  while  Giaudar 
continued  to  prosper  in  war,  and  manifested  on  all  occasions  such 
extraordinary  valor  that  it  became  a  proverb  : — “  Beware  of  ap¬ 
proaching  the  tribe  of  Giaudar.” 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


53 


Kaled,  meanwhile,  attended  his  father  Mohareb,  in  his  daily 
martial  exercises,  which  were  actual  warfare,  several  of  the 
combatants  being  always  wounded  ;  and  thus  was  Kaled’s  ambi¬ 
tion  stimulated  to  become  a  formidable  warrior;  his  cousin’s  re- 
putation  for  bravery  supplying  an  additional  spur  to  his  emula¬ 
tion.  He  ardently  longed  to  see  this  much  talked  of  cousin,  but, 
aware  of  the  dissensions  existing  between  their  parents,  durst  not 
attempt  it.  At  the  age  of  fifteen,  when  he  had  the  misfortune  to 
lose  his  father,  Kaled  had  become  the  bravest  warrior  of  his  tribe. 
He  was  chosen  to  replace  Mohareb,  and  as  he  already  displayed 
the  same  virtues,  he  was  not  long  in  gaining  the  general  esteem 
and  respect.  He  one  day  proposed  to  his  mother  a  visit  to  his 
uncle,  and  forth  they  proceeded,  followed  by  rich  presents  of 
horses,  harness,  arms,  &c. 

Zaher  welcomed  them  most  graciously,  and  treated  his  nephew 
in  particular,  w'hose  reputation  had  already  reached  him,  with 
the  utmost  attention  and  affection.  Kaled  tenderly  embraced 
his  cousin  Giaudar,  for  whom  he  conceived  a  warm  attachment 
during  the  short  time  he  passed  with  his  uncle.  Every  day  was 
devoted  to  military  exercises  which  delighted  Giaudar,  who  saw 
in  Kaled  an  accomplished  warrior,  full  of  courage  and  generosity, 
affable,  eloquent,  and  endowed,  with  masculine  beauty.  They 
passed  entire  days,  and  even  a  great  part  of  their  nights  together. 
At  length,  so  ardently  was  Giaudar  attached  to  Kaled,  that  one 
day,  entering  her  mother’s  chamber,  she  said,  “If  my  cousin  re¬ 
turns  to  his  tribe  without  me,  I  shall  die  of  grief,  fori  love  him 
passionately.” 

“  I  am  far  from  disapproving  your  passion,”  replied  her 
mother  ;  “  you  have  reason  to  love  him,  for  he  is  formed  to  in¬ 
spire  attachment.  He  is  your  cousin  ;  you  are  of  the  same 
blood,  almost  of  the  same  age,  and  he  can  never  find  a  more  suit¬ 
able  match  than  in  you.  But  let  me  first  speak  to  his  mother, 
and  acquaint  her  with  your  sex  ;  when  she  comes  to  me  accord¬ 
ing  to  her  daily  custom,  I  will  inform  her  of  the  fact;  we  will 
then  arrange  your  marriage,  and  all  set  out  together.” 

The  next  morning  she  set  herself  to  the  employment  of  comb¬ 
ing  her  daughter’s  beautiful  tresses,  at  the  usual  hour  of  her  visit 
from  Kaled’s  mother;  and  when  the  latter  inquired  who  that 
charming  girl  was,  she  related  Djida’s  history,  and  explained  that 
it  was  her  father’s  will  to  disguise  her  in  male  attire. 

“  I  reveal  this  secret  to  you,”  said  she,  “  because  I  wish  to 
give  her  in  marriage  to  your  son.” 


54 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


“  I  consent  with  all  my  heart,5’  replied  Kaled’s  mother. 

“  What  an  honor  will  it  be  to  my  son  to  possess  so  pre-eminent 
a  beauty !  55 

She  then  went  in  search  of  Kaled,  and  repeated  the  story  to 
him,  affirming  that  no  living  woman  was  comparable  in  beauty 
with  his  cousin. 

“  Go  then,”  said  she,  “  to  your  uncle  and  demand  her  in  mar¬ 
riage  ;  and  if  he  is  willing  to  grant  her,  you  will  be  the  happiest 
of  mortals.” 

“  I  had  resolved,”  replied  her  son,  “  to  part  no  more  from 
my  co  g  in,  so  strongly  was  I  attached  to  her  while  I  thought  her 
a  boy  ;  but  as  she  is  a  girl,  I  will  have  no  more  concern  with  her  ; 

I  prefer  the  society  of  warriors ;  I  prefer  combats,  or  the  chase 
of  the  elephant  and  lion,  to  the  possession  of  beauty  ;  let  me  hear 
no  more,  therefore,  of  this  marriage,  for  I  am  resolved  to  depart 
this  very  instant.” 

He  accordingly  ordered  the  preparations  for  his  departure,  and 
went  to  take  leave  of  his  uncle,  who  inquired  what  hurried  him 
away,  and  begged  him  to  stay  a  few  days  longer. 

“Impossible,55  replied  Kaled,  “my  tribe  is  destitute  of  its 
chief,  I  must  return  to  it.”  Saying  these  words  he  set  out  ac¬ 
companied  by  his  mother,  who  had  bade  adieu  to  her  sister-in-law, 
and  reported  to  her  her  conversation  with  her  son. 

When  informed  of  her  cousin’s  refusal,  Djida  was  plunged 
into  the  deepest  grief,  and  could  neither  eat  nor  sleep,  so  violent 
was  her  passion.  Her  father,  seeing  her  in  such  a  condition,  be¬ 
lieved  her  ill,  and  ceased  to  carry  her  with  him  on  his  excursions; 
one  day,  when  he  was  gone  to  a  distance  to  surprise  a  hostile 
tribe,  she  said  to  her  mother  :  “  I  will  not  die  for  one  who  has 
treated  me  with  so  little  consideration.  Lknow  how,  by  the  aid 
of  Providence,  to  retaliate  upon  him  all  my  sufferings,  even  that 
of  love.”  Then  rising  with  the  fury  of  a  chafed  lioness,  she 
mounted  her  horse,  telling  her  mother  she  was  going  to  the  chase, 
and  set  out  under  the  disguise  of  a  Bedouin,  from  Kegiaz,  for  the 
tribe  of  her  cousin.  She  was  lodged  with  one  of  the  chiefs,  who 
taking  her  for  a  warrior,  received  her  most  hospitably.  The 
next  day  she  attended  the  martial  exercises  commanded  by  her 
cousin,  and  commenced  with  him  a  contest  which  lasted  till  mid¬ 
night.  The  combat  of  two  such  heroes  elicited  the  admiration  of 
all  the  spectators  ;  and  Kaled,  astonished  to  the  last  degree  of 
meeting  with  a  chief  who  could  make  head  against  him,  ordered 
every  possible  attention  to  be  paid  to  his  antagonist.  The  fol- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


55 


lowing  day  the  struggle  was  resumed,  and  lasted  throughout  the 
third  and  fourth  days ;  all  which  time  Kaled  made  every  possible 
efforts  to  discover  who  the  stranger  was,  but  without  success. 
The  combat  continued  till  the  fourth  night,  and  neither  of  them 
had  been  able  to  inflict  a  wound  on  the  other  ;  at  its  conclusion 
Kaled,  addressing  his  adversary,  said  : — “  In  the  name  of  that 
God  who  has  endued  you  with  such  marvelous  valor,  let  me 
know  your  country  and  tribe  !  Upon  which  Djida  raising  her  mask, 
replied,  “  I  am  the  cousin  who,  smitten  with  your  accomplishments, 
offered  my  self  to  you  in  marriage,  but  was  refused  because  you  pre¬ 
ferred  the  combat  and  the  chase  to  the  possession  of  a  wife.  I  am 
come  to  make  you  feel  the  courage  and  bravery  of  her  whom  you 
have  rejected  !” 

With  these  words  she  resumed  her  mask,  and  went  home  ; 
leaving  Kaled  melancholy,  irresolute,  deprived  of  strength  and 
courage,  and  so  lost  in  admiration  that  he  became  insensible.  On 
his  recovery,  his  taste  for  war  and  the  chase  of  wild  beasts  had 
given  place  to  love.  He  went  home,  and  imparted  to  his  mother  his 
sudden  change  of  sentiment,  relating  his  contest  with  his  cousin. 

“You  deserve  all  that  has  happened,”  said  she  ;  “  you  would 
not  believe  me,  and  your  cousin  has  acted  properly  in  punishing 
your  haughtiness  towards  her.”  Kaled  represented  that  he  was 
not  in  a  state  to  bear  her  reproaches,  but  rather  stood  in  need  of 
compassion,  and  entreated  her  to  demand  his  cousin  for  him  ;  upon 
which  she  immediately  set  out  for  Djida’s  tribe,  in  great  anxiety 
for  her  son,  whom  she  left  in  a  deplorable  condition. 

Djida,  after  discovering  herself  to  her  cousin,  returned  home  ; 
to  her  mother,  who  had  been  uneasy  at  her  absence,  she  related 
her  adventure,  and  astonished  her  by  the  recital  of  so  much  prow¬ 
ess.  Three  days  after  her  return,  arrived  Kaled’s  mother,  and 
desired  to  be  immediately  introduced  to  Djida ;  whom  she  told 
that  she  came  as  ambassadress  from  her  son,  to  propose  their 
union ;  and  informed  her  at  the  same  time  of  the  sad  state  in 
which  she  had  left  Kaled. 

“Such  a  marriage  is  henceforth  impossible,”  said  Djida. 
“  I  will  never  marry  him  who  has  refused  me,  though  I  was  wil¬ 
ling  to  give  him  a  lesson,  and  punish  him  for  making  me  suffer  so 
severely.” 

Her  aunt  represented,  that  if  he  had  occasioned  her  some  pain, 
he  was  at  present  far  more  miserable  than  herself : — “  Though  I 
should  die,”  replied  Djida,  “I  will  never  be  his  wife.” 

Her  father  being  still  absent,  Kaled’s  mother  could  not  apply 


56 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


to  him,  and  finding  she  had  no  chance  of  obtaining  any  thing  from 
Djida,  she  went  back  to  her  son,  whom  shg  found  sick  with  love, 
and  much  altered  ;  and  reported  to  him  the  result  of  her  mission, 
which  augmented  his  misery  and  despair.  “  There  remains,” 
said  she,  “  but  one  course  for  you.  Go  in  person,  attended  by  the 
chiefs  of  our  tribe,  and  the  tribes  in  alliance  with  us,  to  demand 
her  of  her  father  ;  if  he  answers  that  he  has  no  daughter,  tell  him 
your  history ;  he  cannot  longer  deny  the  fact,  and  will  be  obliged 
to  yield  her  to  you.” 

Kaled  instantly  convoked  the  chiefs  and  old  men  of  the  tribe, 
and  recounted  to  them  all  that  had  happened  ;  which  recital  filled 
them  with  astonishment.  “  It  is  a  wonderful  history,”  said  Mehdi 
Kazab,  one  of  the  elders,  “  and  deserves  to  be  written  in  letters  of 
gold.  We  are  ignorant  that  your  uncle  had  a  daughter,  we  have 
heard  only  of  his  son  named  Giaudar.  Who  then  is  this  heroine  ? 
We  will  accompany  you  when  you  go  to  demand  her  hand,  of 
which  no  one  can  be  more  worthy  than  yourself.” 

Kaled,  being  assured  of  his  uncle’s  return,  departed,  attended 
by  twenty  principal  chiefs  of  his  tribe,  and  a  hundred  horsemen, 
and  followed  by  magnificent  presents.  Zaher  received  them  hos¬ 
pitably,  though  being  ignorant  of  his  nephew’s  encounter  with 
his  daughter,  the  speedy  return  of  the  former  was  quite  incom¬ 
prehensible  to  him.  The  fourth  day  after  his  arrival,  Kaled  kissed 
his  uncle’s  hand,  and  asked  his  cousin  in  marriage,  supplicating 
her  father  to  return  and  reside  with  him :  and  when  Zaher  main¬ 
tained  that  his  boy  Giaudar  was  the  only  child  God  had  blessed 
him  with,  Kaled  related  the  whole  of  his  adventures.  Zaher,  dis¬ 
turbed  by  the  recital,  was  for  some  moments  silent.  “  I  had  for¬ 
gotten,”  said  he  at  length,  “that  my  secret  might  one  day  be 
disclosed  ;  but  since  it  is  so,  you  may  above  all  other  men  pretend 
to  your  cousin’s  hand,  and  I  grant  it  you.” 

The  price  of  Djida  was  afterwards  determined,  in  presence 
of  witnesses,  at  a  thousand  red  camels  laden  with  the  finest  pro¬ 
ductions  of  Yeman.  When  Zaher  entered  his  daughter’s  cham¬ 
ber,  and  informed  her  of  the  engagement  into  which  he  had  just 
entered  with  Kaled  : — “  I  assent  to  it,”  replied  she,  “  on  condition 
that  on  my  wedding-day,  my  cousin  shall  kill  a  thousand  of 
the  choicest  camels  of  Melaeb-el-Assene,  of  the  tribe  of  Ben 
Hamer.” 

Her  father  smiled  at  her  demand,  but  answered  for  his  ne¬ 
phew’s  acceptance  of  the  condition.  The  entreaties  of  the  latter 
having  prevailed  on  his  uncle  to  return  with  him,  they  set  out  the 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


57 


following  morning,  and  Zaher  experienced  every  possible  atten¬ 
tion  and  respect  from  his  former  tribe,  who  conferred  on  him  the 
first  rank  amongst  them. 

The  day  after  his  arrival,  Kaled,  at  the  head  of  a  thousand 
chosen  warriors,  surprised  the  tribe  of  Ben-Hamer,  and,  after  a 
sanguinary  engagement  dangerously  wounded  Melaeb,  whom  he 
despoiled  of  more  than  the  thousand  camels  required  by  Djida, 
and  came  home  in  triumph. 

Some  days  afterwards,  as  he  was  supplicating  his  uncle  to 
hasten  their  marriage,  his  cousin  told  him  that  he  should  never 
see  her  under  his  tent  unless  he  brought  her  the  wife  or  daughter 
of  one  of  the  most  valiant  Emirs  of  Kail,  to  hold  the  bridle  of  her 
camel  on  her  wedding-day  ;  “  For,5’  added  she,  “  I  would  be  the 
envy  of  all  other  maidens.” 

To  satisfy  this  new  demand,  Kaled,  at  the  head  of  a  numerous 
army,  attacked  the  tribe  of  Nihama  Eben-el-Nazal,  and  after 
several  battles,  succeeded  in  seizing  Aniame,  daughter  of  Nihama, 
and  carrying  her  off  with  him.  Djida  having  no  further  requisi¬ 
tions  to  make,  he  went  to  a  lion  hunt. 

On  the  eve  of  his  wedding-day,  on  his  way  to  the  chase,  he 
encountered  a  warrior,  who  advancing  towards  him,  commanded 
him  in  a  loud  voice  to  surrender  himself,  and  instantly  dismount 
on  pain  of  death.  Kaled’s  only  reply  was  an  eager  career  against 
his  unknown  enemy  ;  the  combat  was  fierce,  and  lasted  more  than 
an  hour,  when,  wearied  by  the  resistance  of  an  enemy  whom  he 
could  not  overcome,  “  Son  of  an  accursed  race  !”  exclaimed 
Kaled,  “  who  are  you  ?  what  is  your  tribe  ?  and  wherefore  come 
you  here  to  hinder  my  prosecution  of  a  chase  so  important  to  me  ? 
A  malediction  upon  you  !  let  me  at  least  know  whether  I  am  con¬ 
tending  with  an  emir  or  a  slave.” 

His  antagonist,  raising  the  visor  of  his  helmet,  answered  with 
a  smile,  “  How  can  a  warrior  address  a  maiden  in  such  terms  ?” 

Kaled,  recognizing  his  cousin,  was  struck  dumb  with  shame 
and  confusion,  and  had  not  a  word  to  reply. 

“I  thought,”  continued  Djida,  “  your  chase  might  be  difficult, 
and  am  come  to  your  assistance.” 

“  By  the  All-Powerful !”  exclaimed  Kaled,  “  I  know  no  war¬ 
rior  whose  valor  equals  thine,  O  queen  of  beauty !” 

They  then  separated,  engaging  to  meet  in  the  evening  at  the 
same  spot ;  and  there  accordingly  they  rejoined  each  other,  Kaled 
having  killed  a  lion,  and  Djida  a  lion  and  a  lioness.  After  com¬ 
paring  their  spoils,  they  again  parted  company,  more  than  ever 
enchanted  with  each  other. 


58 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


The  marriage  was  celebrated  for  three  days  with  every  species 
of  rejoicing.  More  than  a  thousand  camels  and  twenty  lions 
were  slain  ;  the  lions  by  Kaled’s  own  hand,  those  two  only  ex¬ 
cepted  which  his  cousin’s  hunting  had  provided.  Aniame  led  by 
the  bridle  the  naka  which  bore  Djida,  and  the  two  lovers  were  at 
the  summit  of  felicity. 

Zaher  died  soon  after  their  union,  leaving  the  supreme  com¬ 
mand  to  his  children,  Kaled  and  Djida ;  which  two  heroes,  in  al¬ 
liance,  soon  became  the  terror  of  the  desert. 

Let  us  now  return  to  Antar  and  his  brother.  When  they  ap¬ 
proached  the  encampment,  Antar  sent  his  brother  to  reconnoitre 
the  disposition  of  the  ground  and  the  situation  of  Kaled’s  tent, 
that  he  might  take  measures  for  attacking  him ;  and  Chaiboub,  in 
announcing  next  day  the  result  of  his  survey,  told  him  his  good 
fortune  exceeded  the  malice  of  his  uncle,  since  Kaled  was  absent. 

“  There  are  but  a  hundred  horsemen  of  the  tribe,”  said  he, 
“  with  Djida.  Her  husband  is  gone  away  with  Mehdi-Karab, 
and  she  is  charged  to  watch  over  the  public  safety ;  every  night 
she  is  on  horseback,  followed  by  a  score  of  her  horsemen;  and  as 
I  hear  from  her  slaves,  sometimes  rides  to  a  distance.” 

Antar,  in  raptures  at  this  news,  told  his  brother  he  hoped  to 
make  Djida  prisoner  that  very  evening ;  that  Chaiboub’s  task 
should  be  to  arrest  at  a  narrow  pass  the  flight  of  her  companions, 
lest  any  of  them  should  arouse  the  tribe,  who  might  in  that  case 
pursue  them. 

“  If  you  let  but  one  escape,”  said  he,  “  I  will  cut  off  your  right 
hand.” 

“  I  will  do  all  you  command,”  said  Chaiboub,  “  being  here  on 
purpose  to  aid  you.” 

Having  lurked  in  concealment  all  day,  they  reapproached  the 
tribe  after  sunset,  when  they  soon  perceived  several  horsemen 
advancing  towards  them,  with  Djida  at  their  head,  singing  these 
verses : — 

“  The  dust  of  the  horses  is  very  great :  war  is  my  element. 

“  The  lion  hunt  is  a  glory  and  triumph  to  other  warriors,  but 
I  am  indifferent  to  it. 

“  The  stars  bear  witness  that  the  bravery  of  my  fathers  is  ef¬ 
faced  by  mine. 

“  Who  dares  oppose  my  path,  when  I  scour  by  night  the 
mountains  or  the  plain  ? 

“  I  have  acquired  more  glory  than  any  one,  by  the  overthrow 
of  the  most  redoubted  warriors.” 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


59 


When  she  had  ended  her  song,  Antar,  who  had  been  listening 
to  it,  told  his  brother  to  take  the  left  side,  and  throwing  himsslf 
on  the  right,  uttered  his  war-cry  in  so  terrible  a  voice  as  to  spread 
dismay  among  the  twenty  martial  attendants  of  Djida,  whom  he 
assaulted  without  loss  of  time  ;  he  slew  her  horse  at  one  stroke  of 
his  sabre,  and  stunned  herself  by  a  violent  blow  on  the  head ; 
then  leaving  her,  he  turned  upon  her  companions,  killed  twelve  of 
them  presently,  and  put  the  rest  to  flight.  Chaiboub,  who  awaited 
them  at  the  pass,  brought  down  six  with  his  arrows,  and  Antar, 
running  to  his  assistance,  easily  mastered  the  other  two.  He  then 
told  his  brother  to  run  quickly  and  bind  Djida,  before  the  return 
of  her  consciousness,  and  to  carry  her  off  on  one  of  the  horses 
whose  riders  they  had  just  killed. 

But  Djida,  after  lying  senseless  for  an  hour,  had  recovered, 
and  catching  one  of  the  abandoned  horses,  threw  herself  upon  it. 
Directed  to  Antar  by  the  sound  of  his  voice,  she  drew  her  sabre, 
saying  to  him — 

“  Flatter  not  thyself,  son  of  an  accursed  race,  with  seeing 
Djida  fall  into  thy  power  ;  I  am  here  to  make  thee  bite  the  dust, 
and  thou  wouldst  never  have  seen  me  on  the  ground,  but  for  thy 
good  fortune  in  killing  my  horse. ” 

With  these  words  she  thrust  at  Antar  with  the  fury  of  a  lion¬ 
ess  robbed  of  her  young ;  he  bravely  sustained  the  onset,  and  a 
desperate  struggle  ensued,  which  lasted  three  hours  without  any 
decided  advantage  on  either  side,  till  both  were  overcome  by  fa¬ 
tigue.  Chaiboub  watched  at  a  distance  to  intercept  any  succor 
that  might  arrive  to  Djida,  who,  though  weakened  by  her  fall,  and 
wounded  in  several  places,  still  offered  an  obstinate  resistance  in 
the  vain  hope  of  rescue.  At  length  Antar,  rushing  upon  her, 
seized  her  by  the  throat,  and  again  depriving  her  of  sense,  profit¬ 
ed  by  the  opportunity  to  disarm  her  and  bind  her  hands.  Chai¬ 
boub  then  pressed  his  brother  to  hasten  his  departure  with  his 
prize,  before  the  events  of  the  night  should  come  to  the  knowledge 
of  Djida’s  tribe  and  its  allies,  and  they  should  be  pursued.  But 
Antar  refused,  resolving  not  to  return  to  Ben-Abess  without  booty. 

“We  cannot,”  said  he,  “  so  lightly  abandon  the  noble  herds 
of  this  tribe  ;  we  should  have  to  return  a  second  time  on  the  occa¬ 
sion  of  Ablla’s  marriage.  Let  us  wait  till  they  are  brought  out 
to  pasturage  at  day-break,  when  we  will  seize  them,  and  after¬ 
wards  retrace  our  steps  to  Ben-Abess.” 

In  the  morning,  when  the  herds  came  out  to  their  pastures, 
Antar  made  himself  master  of  a  thousand  nakas, — a  thousand 


60 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


camels  with  their  herdsmen,  and  committed  them  to  the  charge  of 
Chaiboub  to  drive  home,  staying  behind  himself  to  disperse  their 
guards,  amongst  whom  his  sabre  made  terrible  havoc.  All  who 
could  escape  ran  to  the  tribe,  and  reported  that  a  single  Negro 
warrior  had  taken  possession  of  all  their  herds,  killed  a  great 
many  of  their  party,  and  still  remained  on  the  field  of  battle, 
waiting  to  be  attacked  ;  and  “  we  have  reason  to  believe/’  added 
they,  “  that  he  has  killed  or  taken  Djida.” 

“  Can  the  world  produce  a  champion,”  said  Giabe,  one  of  their 
most  renowned  chiefs,  “  who  could  make  head  against  Djida, 
much  less  conquer  her  !” 

The  others,  knowing  her  to  have  left  the  camp  over  night,  and 
finding  that  she  did  not  return,  concluded  that  she  was  following 
the  chase.  They  agreed,  however,  immediately  to  set  out  to  re¬ 
cover  their  cattle,  and  marched  in  companies  of  twenty  or  thirty, 
till  they  encountered  Antar,  who  on  horseback,  and  leaning  on  his 
lance,  awaited  the  combat.  “  Madman  !”  they  all  cried  to  him 
at  once,  “  who  art  thou  who  comest  hither  to  seek  certain  death  V’ 
Antar,  without  deigning  any  reply,  impetuously  assaulted  them  ; 
and  though  their  number  amounted  to  eighty,  he  easily  routed 
them,  after  wounding  many. 

He  then  thought  of  rejoining  his  brother,  lest  the  camel-drivers 
should  get  the  better  of  him  ;  but  he  had  no  sooner  set  forward 
than  he  observed  a  cloud  of  dust  rising  in  the  midst  of  the  desert ; 
conceiving  it  to  be  the  enemy,  “To-day,”  said  he,  “  1  must  show 
myself  a  man.”  Fie  then  continued  his  route  till  he  met  Chai¬ 
boub  returning.  Antar  inquired  what  he  had  done  with  Djida  and 
the  herds. 

“  When  the  herdsmen,”  answered  his  brother,  “  beheld  yon¬ 
der  column  of  dust,  they  revolted,  and  refused  to  proceed,  declar¬ 
ing  it  to  be  Kaled  returning  with  his  army.  I  killed  three,  but 
knowing  you  to  be  alone  against  a  host,  I  am  come  to  your  assist¬ 
ance.” 

“Coward,”  rejoined  Antar,  “ you  were  frightened,  and  have 
deserted  Djida  and  the  cattle,  but  I  swear  by  the  Almighty,  I  will 
this  day  perform  prodigies  which  shall  be  celebrated  for  centuries 
to  come.” 

So  saying,  he  hastily  traced  the  steps  of  Djida,  whom  the 
herdsmen  had  unbound  after  the  departure  of  Chaiboub.  She 
was  on  horseback,  but  faint  and  unarmed.  Antar,  after  killing 
four  of  the  herdsmen,  being  unable  to  arrest  the  flight  of  the  re¬ 
mainder,  pursued  Djida,  who  was  flying  towards  the  advancing 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


61 


army,  which  she  supposed  to  belong  to  her  tribe.  But  when  she 
found  herself  in  the  midst  of  the  troop,  she  heard  them  hailing 
her  foe  with  these  words  :  “  Antar,  most  valiant  of  heroes,  we 
come  to  your  aid  though  you  need  not  our  succor.” 

It  was  the  army  of  Ben-Abess,  commanded  by  King  Zoheir  in 
person ;  who  missing  Antar,  and  dreading  that  his  uncle,  accord¬ 
ing  to  custom,  had  despatched  him  on  some  perilous  enterprise, 
summoned  Chidad,  his  father,  to  make  inquiries  after  him ;  and 
unable  to  gain  any  intelligence  from  him,  he  next  questioned  Mal- 
lek,  who  affected  to  be  no  better  informed  ;  but  Chidad,  knowing 
the  frankness  of  Ablla’s  nature,  interrogated  her,  and  soon  learnt 
the  whole  truth  ;  which  being  communicated  to  the  king,  the 
princes,  his  sons,  enraged  against  Mallek,  determined  on  instantly 
proceeding  in  search  of  Antar,  asseverating  that  if  they  found  him 
safe  and  sound,  his  marriage  should  be  solemnized  the  instant  of 
his  return  ;  and  if  he  should  have  perished,  the  death  of  the 
treacherous  Mallek  should  avenge  the  loss  their  tribe  would  sus¬ 
tain  in  the  loss  of  so  inestimable  a  hero.  Informed  of  the  project 
of  his  sons,  Chass  and  Mallek,  the  king  resolved  on  putting  him¬ 
self  at  the  head  of  his  bravest  troops ;  and  he  forthwith  quitted 
the  tribe  followed  by  four  thousand  horsemen.  Mallek,  who  was 
of  the  number,  inquired  as  they  went,  what  was  the  king’s  design  ? 

“  I  am  going,”  replied  Zoheir,  “  to  extricate  Antar  from  the 
rash  enterprise  in  which  you  have  involved  him.” 

“  I  assure  you,”  returned  Mallek,  “  I  have  no  knowledge  of 
any  such.  Ablla  alone  is  to  blame  ;  and  she  shall  answer  it  with 
her  head.” 

Chass  here  interposed.  “  On  my  honor,  Mallek,”  said  he  “  it 
were  far  better  that  you  were  disposed  of ;  were  I  not  restrained 
by  respect  for  my  father,  and  by  friendship  for  Antar,  I  would 
make  your  own  head  fly  from  your  shoulders.”  Then  striking 
him  sharply  with  the  flat  of  his  sabre,  he  commanded  him  to  be 
gone. 

Mallek  returned  to  the  tribe,  and  assembling  his  kinsmen  and 
friends,  imparted  to  them  the  affront  he  had  sustained,  and  his 
resolution  to  detach  himself  from  the  sway  of  Zoheir  ;  he  accord¬ 
ingly  withdrew  to  a  distance  with  seven  hundred  of  his  own 
followers,  accompanied  by  El-Rabek,  one  of  the  most  celebrated 
chiefs,  and  Herone-Eben-El-Wuard,  at  the  head  of  a  hundred 
picked  horsemen. 

They  marched  all  day,  and  at  night  pitched  their  tents  to  hold 
a  council  and  determine  whither  they  should  go,  and  what  tribe 

VOL.  n.  4 


62 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


they  should  join.  “  We  are  more  than  seven  hundred  in  number,” 
said  El-Rabek,  “  let  us  wait  here  for  news  from  Antar ;  if  he 
escapes  the  danger  he  is  gone  to  seek,  and  returns  to  Een-Abess, 
Zoheir  will  unquestionably  come  and  seek  us ;  if  he  perishes,  we 
will  remove  further.”  This  counsel  prevailed,  and  they  remained 
where  they  were.  Zoheir  continued  his  march  in  search  of  An¬ 
tar,  and  rested  not  till  he  met  him  in  pursuit  of  Djida.  The  life 
of  the  unfortunate  heroine  was  saved,  and  she  was  again  bound, 
and  confided  to  the  care  of  Chaiboub. 

Antar,  on  perceiving  the  king,  threw  himself,  from  his  horse, 
and  kissed  the  royal  sandal,  saying  :  “  My  lord  does  his  slave  too 
much  honor;  why  take  so  much  trouble  for  me  ?” 

“  What,”  said  Zoheir,  “  would  you  have  me  leave  such  a 
hero  alone  in  an  enemy’s  country?  You  should  have  informed 
me  of  your  uncle’s  demands,  that  I  might  either  have  satisfied 
him  from  my  own  herds,  or  have  accompanied  you  in  your 
perilous  expedition.” 

Antar,  having  returned  thanks,  saluted  the  king’s  two  sons, 
Chass  and  Mallek,  and  his  own  father  Chidad,  who  related  to  him 
the  proceedings  of  Ablla’s  father.  “  My  uncle,”  said  Antar,  “  is 
aware  of  my  love  for  his  daughter,  and  abuses  the  power  it  gives 
him ;  but  thanks  to  God,  and  to  the  terror  inspired  by  our  King 
Zoheir,  I  have  attained  my  object ;  and  if  I  had  been  accompanied 
by  fifty  horsemen  should  have  been  master  of  all  the  herds  of  the 
three  tribes,  which  were  quite  undefended ;  but  you  are  come, 
and  we  will  seize  them.  It  shall  never  be  said  that  the  King 
made  a  useless  campaign.  He  must  repose  here  a  day  or  two, 
while  we  go  and  plunder  these  tribes.” 

Zoheir  approved  the  project,  and  had  the  tents  pitched  on  the 
spot,  especially  recommending  the  warriors  who  were  to  join  the 
expedition,  to  respect  the  women.  They  were  absent  three  days, 
and  almost  without  a  contest  carried  off  so  prodigious  a  spoil  that 
the  king  was  perfectly  amazed. 

The  following  day  the  order  for  departure  being  given,  the 
army  took  the  road  homewards,  to  the  satisfaction  of  all,  if  we 
except  Djida,  who,  encircled  by  a  number  of  horsemen,  was 
mounted  on  a  camel,  led  by  a  negro.  At  three  days’  march  from 
the  residence  of  their  tribe,  they  encamped  in  a  vast  plain,  and 
Antar  observing  that  it  was  well  adapted  for  battle,  the  king 

pointed  out  to  him  that  it  was  equally  suitable  for  the  chase : _ 

“  But,”  replied  Antar,  “  I  love  war  alone,  and  a  long  abstinence 
from  battle  is  grievous  to  me.” 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


63 


Some  hours  afterwards  a  thick  dust  was  perceived,  apparently 
directing  its  course  towards  the  camp  ;  then  the  steel  points  of 
lances  were  descried  gleaming  in  the  sunbeams,  and  confused 
lamentations  soon  after  reached  the  ear.  Zoheir,  supposing  this 
to  be  Kaled’s  army,  returning  with  their  prisoners  from  their 
attack  on  the  tribe  of  Ben-Amar,  cautioned  Antar  to  prepare  for 
battle. 

“  Be  not  uneasy,”  replied  he  ;  “  these  warriors  will  soon  be 
in  your  power.”  Eager  to  try  his  strength  with  the  enemy,  he 
instantly  ordered  all  hostile  preparations,  leaving  ten  horsemen 
and  several  negroes,  to  guard  the  booty. 

Before  we  proceed  further  it  is  necessary  to  bring  the 
reader  acquainted  with  the  advancing  army.  Kaled,  who  had 
departed  with  five  thousand  warriors,  and  the  two  chiefs  Kaiss- 
Eben-Mouchek  and  Mehdi  Karab,  to  attack  Ben-Amar,  found 
the  country  deserted ;  for  the  inhabitants,  having  had  warning, 
had  retreated  with  all  the  treasure  to  the  mountains.  He 
had,  therefore,  made  no  booty,  and  as  they  were  returning 
without  the  acquisition  of  a  single  camel,  his  companions  urged 
him  to  surprise  the  tribe  of  Ben-Abess,  the  richest  of  the 
district.  Kaled,  taking  the  road  towards  this  tribe,  had  met 
the  camp  of  Ablla’s  father,  attacked  it,  and  after  a  battle  of  a 
whole  day’s  duration,  had  taken  prisoners  the  remaining  war¬ 
riors  who  composed  it,  as  well  as  the  women  and  cattle.  Ablla 
rejoiced  that,  by  falling  into  the  power  of  Kaled,  she  escaped 
the  still  greater  misfortune  of  a  marriage  her  father  wished 
to  force  her  into  with  one  of  her  kinsmen,  named  Amara — pre¬ 
ferring  captivity  to  being  the  wife  of  any  other  than  Antar. 

She  called  incessantly  upon  him ;  “  Dear  Antar,  where 

are  you?  Why  cannot  you  see  the  situation  I  am  in?” 
Kaled  inquired  of  the  prisoners  who  this  woman  was  who  so 
repeatedly  pronounced  the  same  name,  and  was  answered  by  a 
sworn  foe  of  Antar,  that  her  name  was  Ablla,  and  that  she  had 
required  her  cousin  to  bring  Djida  as  a  captive  to  hold  the  bridle 
of  her  naka  on  the  day  of  her  marriage.  “  We  withdrew  from  our 
tribe,”  added  he,  “  not  choosing  to  accompany  the  King  Zoheir, 
who  has  set  out  on  this  enterprise  with  all  his  followers,  except 
three  hundred  left  to  guard  Ben-Abess  under  the  command  of 
Warka,  one  of  his  sons.” 

Kaled,  enraged  at  this  intelligence,  despatched  Mehdi-Ka- 
rab,  at  the  head  of  a  thousand  troops,  to  carry  off  the  women 
and  cattle  of  Ben-Abess,  with  orders  to  massacre  every  man 


64 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND 


u 


a 


they  should  find.  He  meanwhile  proceeded  on  his  way  to  re¬ 
join  his  own  tribe,  treating  his  prisoners  very  harshly,  and  in 
considerable  anxiety  for  Djida,  which  found  vent  and  solace 
in  verse. 

“  I  have  led  to  battle  horses  harnessed  with  iron,  and  bearing 
warriors  more  terrible  than  lions. 

“  I  have  traversed  the  lands  of  Ben-Kenneb,  Ben-Amar, 
and  Ben-Kelal.  At  my  approach  the  inhabitants  fled  to  the 
mountains. 

“Ben-Abess  is  in  imminent  danger;  day  and  night  its  people 
shall  weep. 

All  those  who  have  escaped  the  carnage  are  my  captives. 
How  many  maidens  whose  bright  eyes  are  dimmed  with 
tears,  call  Ben-Abess  to  their  succor  !  But  Ben-Abess  is  in 
chains. 

“  Zoheir  is  gone  to  seek  death  in  a  land  where  the  wo¬ 
men  are  more  valiant  than  the  men.  Woe  to  him  if  the 
truth  has  been  told  me  !  He  has  left  the  substance  for  the 
shadow  ! 

“  The  day  of  combat  will  decide  which  of  us  two  is  de¬ 
ceived. 

“  My  blade  rejoices  in  my  victorious  hand.  The  steel  of  my 
enemy  sheds  tears  of  blood. 

“  The  most  invincible  warriors  see  me  and  tremble. 

“  My  name  must  trouble  their  sleep,  if  terror  will  suffer  them 
to  taste  repose. 

“  Did  I  not  fear  the  imputation  of  arrogance,  I  would  say  that 
my  single  arm  suffices  to  shake  the  universe.” 

As  this  triumphant  boast  escaped  his  lips,  Kaled  stood  in 
the  presence  of  the  army  of  Ben-Abess.  k'  The  cries  and  la¬ 
mentations  of  the  prisoners  having  reached  the  ears  of  Antar 
and  his  warriors,  they  seemed  to  recognize  familiar  voices, 
and  gave  notice  to  Zoheir,  who  immediately  sent  a  horseman, 
named  Abssi,  to  reconnoitre  the  enemy.  Kaled,  descrying  him 
from  afar,  exclaimed,  “  Here  comes  a  messenger  from  Ben- 
Abess  to  make  me  proposals  ;  but  I  will  listen  to  none.  My 
purpose  is  a  war  of  extermination ;  or  if  we  make  prisoners,  all 
shall  be  slaves.  But  whence  all  that  cattle  which  I  see  ?  with¬ 
out  doubt  they  have  plundered  our  tribe  while  Djida  was  hunting 
lions.” 

Saying  this,  he  sent  Zebaide,  one  of  his  warriors,  to  meet  the 
envoy  of  Zoheir,  with  orders  to  inquire  his  mission,  and  to  ascer- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


65 


tain  the  fate  of  Djida.  Scarcely  had  they  met  when  Zebaide 
cried,  “  O  thou  who  comest  here  in  search  of  death,  declare  thy 
mission  quickly  before  thy  head  rolls  in  the  dust.” 

“  I  despise  thy  vain  menaces,”  replied  Abssi,  “  and  will 
soon  prove  them  in  the  field  of  battle.  My  mission  is  three¬ 
fold  :  to  bring  you  news,  to  give  you  warning,  and  to  obtain 
information.  The  news  I  bring  is,  that  we  have  seized  upon 
your  women  and  your  cattle.  I  warn  you  that  we  are  about 
to  give  you  battle  under  the  command  of  the  valiant  Antar ; 
and  I  desire  to  be  informed  what  booty  you  have  taken,  be¬ 
cause  we  know  that  you  have  attacked  the  three  tribes  Ben- 
Kennab,  Ben-Amar,  and  Ben-Kelal.  I  have  spoken  ;  do  you 
reply  ?” 

“  It  cost  us  no  trouble,”  said  Zebaide,  “  to  secure  this  booty  ; 
the  terror  of  Kaled’s  name  sufficed.”  He  then  related  the  cap¬ 
ture  of  Ablla’s  father,  adding  that  a  thousand  warriors  had  been 
sent  to  surprise  Ben-Abess:  “  1  now,”  continued  he,  “in  my  turn 
demand  news  of  Djida.” 

“  She  is  a  prisoner,”  answered  Abssi,  “  and  suffering  greatly 
from  her  wounds.” 

“  Who  then  has  been  able  to  conquer  her,  whose  bravery 
equals  her  husband’s?”  said  the  envoy  of  Kaled. 

“A  hero  whom  nothing  can  resist,”  replied  Abssi,”  “Antar, 
the  son  of  Chidad.” 

The  two  ambassadors  having  fulfilled  their  mission,  returned  to 
give  an  account  of  it  to  their  respective  chiefs.  Immediately  on 
his  arrival,  Abssi  exclaimed  :  “  Fly  to  arms,  O  Ben-Abess,  to 
avenge  the  affront  which  Ben-Zobaid  has  offered  you.”  Then 
turning  to  Zoheir,  he  thus  addressed  him  in  verse : — 

“  Ben-Abess,  surprised  by  the  enemy,  is  become  a  depopulated 
habitation.  The  besom  of  destruction  has  passed  over  her’  and 
the  echoes  alone  are  left  to  lament  her. 

“  You  have  been  stripped  of  your  substance  ;  your  people 
have  been  murdered  ;  your  children  and  your  wives  are  in  the 
power  of  the  enemy.  Listen  to  their  anguished  cries,  they  call 
upon  you  for  succor.  Ben-Zobaid  is  triumphant  j  fly  to  avenge 
yourself. 

“  O  Antar,  could  you  have  seen  the  despair  of  Ablla  !  How 
greatly  it  surpassed  that  of  her  companions. 

“  Her  garments  are  steeped  in  tears ;  and  the  earth  itself  is 
inundated  with  them. 

“  Ablla  the  fairest  of  the  fair. 


66 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


“  Fly  then  to  arms  !  the  time  has  come  to  conquer  or  to  die. 
May  death  follow  every  blow  of  your  terrible  arm.  ” 

“  Zoheir  could  not  suppress  his  tears  at  this  recital.  His 
affliction  was  participated  by  all  the  chiefs  who  surrounded  him. 
Antar  alone  experienced  a  degree  of  satisfaction  on  learning  the 
melancholy  fate  of  his  uncle,  the  cause  of  all  his  misfortunes  ; 
but  in  the  sorrows  of  love,  he  soon  forgot  the  pleasures  of  ven¬ 
geance. 

Kaled’s  envoy  presented  himself  before  his  lord  with  this  chant 
on  his  lips  : — 

“  O  Ben-Zobaid,  you  have  been  surprised  by  the  warriors  of 
Ben-Abess,  borne  on  chargers  fleet  as  the  wind. 

“Your  most  gracious  possessions  have  been  snatched  from 
your  grasp. 

“  Will  you  be  generous  to  those  who  have  even  carried  off 
your  wives ? 

“  0  Ivaled,  couldst  thou  but  see  Djida,  her  eyes  bathed  in 
tears. 

“  O  thou  most  dreadful  of  warriors,  fly,  sabre  in  hand,  to  at¬ 
tack  thy  enemies. 

“  The  death  of  the  brave  is  preferable  to  a  life  of  dishonor. 

“  Let  not  the  wicked  brand  us  with  the  reproach  of  cowardice.” 

At  this  recital,  the  enraged  Kaled  gave  orders  to  march  to  the 
combat ;  and  Zoheir  perceiving  the  movement,  advanced  to  the 
encounter  at  the  head  of  his  forces.  The  plain  and  the  mountains 
shook  at  the  concussion  of  the  two  armies.  Zoheir  addressing 
Antar,  said,  “  The  enemy  is  numerous,  this  day  will  be  dreadful.” 

“  My  Lord,”  replied  Antar,  “  man  can  die  but  once.  This  is 
the  day  I  have  so  ardently  desired.  Though  Ccesar  and  the  King 
of  Persia  were  with  Kaled,  I  would  deliver  our  wives  and  chil¬ 
dren  or  perish.”  And  he  then  added  in  verse  : 

u  Man,  whatever  his  circumstances,  should  never  endure  con¬ 
tempt. 

“  He  who  is  generous  to  his  guests,  owes  them  the  assistance 
of  his  arm. 

“  When  valor  fails  to  confer  victory,  we  must  learn  to  sup¬ 
port  our  destiny. 

“  Our  friends  must  be  protected,  and  our  lances  stained  with 
the  blood  of  our  enemies. 

“  He  who  is  a  stranger  to  these  virtues,  is  unworthy  ef  esteem. 

“  Would  that  I  might,  single-handed,  cope  with  the  enemy. 

“  I  will  reconquer  to-day  all  that  we  have  been  plundered  of. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


67 


“  The  highest  mountains  shall  tremble  at  the  battle  I  am  about 
to  wane. 

o 

“  Let  Ablla  rejoice,  the  end  of  her  captivity  approaches.” 

Chass,  as  he  heard  these  words,  exclaimed,  “  May  thy  voice 
be  always  heard,  O  thou  who  excellest  all  sages  in  eloquence,  and 
all  warriors  in  valor.” 

Before  the  engagement  Kaled  gave  orders  for  taking  as  many 
prisoners  as  possible. 

Antar  drew  to  the  side  where  the  captives  were  posted,  to  at¬ 
tempt  the  deliverance  of  Ablla,  but  found  them  guarded  by  a 
considerable  number  of  horsemen.  Kaled  in  the  same  manner 
approached  the  station  of  Djida,  flattering  himself  that  Ben-Abess 
could  not  hold  out  for  an  hour  against  him. 

O 

He  commenced  the  attack  by  a  charge  against  the  warriors 
immediately  surrounding  Zoheir,  and  succeeded  in  wounding 
Chass,  whose  father  defended  himself  like  a  lion.  The  combat 
lasted  till  the  darkness  of  night  separated  the  two  armies,  and 
each  withdrew  to  its  camp. 

Antar,  on  his  return,  after  performing  prodigies  of  valor, 
was  informed  by  the  king  that  Kaled  had  wounded  his  son.  “  By 
the  Almighty,”  answered  he,  “  to-morrow  shall  commence  with 
my  conquest  of  Kaled  ;  I  ought  to  have  achieved  it  to-day,  but  I 
have  wasted  my  time  in  vain  endeavors  to  release  Ablla.  Kaled, 
once  slain,  or  my  prisoner,  his  army  will  quickly  disperse,  and 
we  shall  then  have  no  difficulty  in  delivering  our  unfortunate 
friends.  Ben-Zobaid  shall  see  that  we  surpass  him  in  valor.” 

“  O  bravest  of  the  brave,”  replied  Zoheir,  “  I  have  no  doubt  of 
success,  but  I  cannot  help  trembling  at  the  thought  that  Mehdi- 
Karab,  at  the  head  of  a  powerful  band,  is  gone  to  surprise  our 
tribe,  guarded  as  it  is  only  by  my  son  Warka,  and  a  small 
number  of  our  troops.  I  fear  lest  they  should  obtain  possession 
of  our  wives  and  children.  What  will  become  of  us,  should  vic¬ 
tory  fail  us  to-morrow  V’ 

Antar  assuring  him  that  their  efforts  of  the  next  day  should 
end  all  his  alarms,  the  warriors  took  a  slight  repast,  and  retired 
to  their  respective  tents  to  snatch  a  short  interval  of  repose.  But 
Antar  disdained  to  sleep,  and  changing  his  horse,  made  the  cir¬ 
cuit  of  the  camp  in  company  with  Chaiboub,  to  whom  as  they 
rode,  he  communicated  his  fruitless  attempts  for  Ablla’s  de¬ 
liverance. 

“  I  have  been  more  fortunate,”  said  Chaiboub,  “  and  will  tell 
you  by  what  means  I  succeeded,  after  many  efforts,  in  obtaining 


68 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


sight  of  her.  When  the  armies  were  fairly  engaged  in  the  plain, 

I  made  a  long  detour  across  the  desert,  and  reached  the  position 
of  t he  prisoners.  There  I  perceived  El-Rabek,  his  brother 
Herone-Eben-el-Wuard,  your  uncle  Mallek,  his  son,  and  the 
other  warriors  of  our  tribe,  bound  upon  camels ;  near  them  were 
the  women,  and  amongst  them  Ablla,  whose  beautiful  eyes  shed 
torrents  of  tears.  She  stretched  her  arms  towards  our  camp,  , 
crying:  ‘O,  Ben-Abess,  is  there  not  one  of  thy  children  who  can 
come  to  deliver  us  ?  Not  one  who  can  inform  Antar  of  my  un¬ 
happy  situation  V  The  captives  were  encircled  by  a  hundred 
warriors,  as  a  ring  encircles  the  finger.  In  defiance  of  them  I 
attempted  the  rescue  of  Ablla,  but  was  discovered  and  pursued, 
discharging  my  arrows  as  I  fled  ;  in  this  manner  have  I  passed 
the  whole  day,  incessantly  returning  to  the  charge,  but  always 
beaten  off  by  numbers  ;  I  killed  more  than  fifteen  of  the  warriors  ; 
but  Ablla’s  sufferings  are  still  unmitigated.” 

The  recital  drew  tears  from  Antar,  who  was  bursting  with 
rage.  The  brothers,  after  fetching  a  long  compass,  reached  their 
destination. 

At  daybreak,  the  two  armies,  ready  for  battle,  awaited  only 
the  orders  of  their  chiefs  to  engage,  when  a  report  was  spread  in 
Ben-Abess  that  Antar  had  disappeared.  Intelligence  so  fatal  dis¬ 
heartened  Zoheir’s  warriors,  who  already  considered  themselves 
a  prey  to  the  enemy.  The  king  was  on  the  point  of  sending  to 
demand  a  suspension  of  arms,  that  he  might  gain  time  for  Antar’s 
return,  when  a  cloud  of  dust  was  seen  at  a  distance,  thickening 
as  it  drew  nearer.  Presently  the  wailings  of  suffering  and  despair 
were  heard  ;  and  the  appearance  of  this  third  army,  soon  riveted 
the  attention  of  the  other  two.  Horsemen  were  soon  descried, 
sheathed  in  iron,  yet  pliant  as  young  and  tender  branches,  and 
rushing  joyously  to  the  combat.  At  their  head  marched  a  war¬ 
rior,  tall  as  a  cedar,  firm  as  a  rock ;  the  earth  trembled  beneath 
his  steps.  Before  him  appeared  men  bound  to  camels,  and  sur¬ 
rounded  by  mounted  horsemen  leading  other  horses  which  had 
no  riders.  The  cry  of  the  horsemen  was  Ben-Zobaid,  and  their 
voices  filled  the  desert.  It  was  Mehdi-Karab,  whom  Kaled  had 
despatched  to  the  pillage  of  Ben-Abess,  returning  after  success¬ 
fully  acquitting  himself  of  his  mission. 

He  had  reached  the  tribe  at  sunrise,  and  having;  made  him- 
self  master  of  all  the  horses,  the  best  camels,  and  several  daugh¬ 
ters  of  the  first  families,  was  driving  them  before  him  :  but  Warka 
hastily  collecting  the  few  men  at  his  disposal,  marched  in  pursuit. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


69 


Mehdi-Karab,  finding  himself  overtaken,  sent  the  booty  forwards 
under  convoy  of  two  hundred  horsemen,  and  returned  to  the  at¬ 
tack.  Warka,  although  very  inferior  in  numbers,  obstinately 
sustained  the  engagement  till  the  close  of  day,  when  the  remain¬ 
ing  troops  of  Ben-Abess  dispersed,  having  lost  half  their  numbers, 
and  the  chief  himself  being  among  the  prisoners.  Mehdi-Karab, 
after  this  affair,  resumed  his  march,  and  using  the  utmost  expe¬ 
dition,  arrived- on  the  field  in  time  to  take  part  in  the  impending 
battle.  He  instantly  engaged,  and  Zoheir,  at  this  sight  exclaim¬ 
ed,  “  All  my  worst  fears  are  realized  !  But  no  matter,  the  sabre 
must  now  decide  our  fate  ;  any  thing  is  preferable  to  seeing  our 
wives  reduced  by  slavery  to  the  condition  of  bodies  without  souls.” 

Received  with  transports  of  joy,  Mehdi-Karab  reported  the 
result  of  his  expedition,  and  made  inquiries  after  Kaled,  when  to 
his  astonishment  he  learnt,  that  having  mounted  his  horse  the  pre¬ 
ceding  night  to  inspect  the  watch,  he  was  not  yet  returned.  Dis¬ 
guising  his  uneasiness,  he  rushed  impetuously  on  Ben-Abess, 
followed  by  his  whole  army,  vociferating  their  war-cry.  Zoheir’s 
warriors  desperately  sustained  the  shock,  preferring  death  to  a 
life  of  separation  from  their  friends.  Torrents  of  blood  inundated 
the  field  of  battle  :  and  at  mid-day  the  victory  was  still  undecid¬ 
ed,  though  Ben-Abess  began  to  be  sensibly  weakened,  the  enemy 
making  frightful  carnage  in  their  ranks.  Zoheir,  who  was  in 
the  left  wing  with  his  sons  and  principal  chiefs,  seeing  the  centre 
and  right  wing  give  way,  without  being  able  to  rally  them,  was 
at  the  acme  of  distress,  when  he  distinguished  in  the  rear  of  the 
enemy  a  body  of  a  thousand  chosen  warriors  shouting  Ben-Abess. 
It  was  commanded  by  Antar,  who,  cased  in  iron,  and  resembling 
a  tower  of  steel,  dashed  precipitately  forward,  preceded  by  Chai- 
boub,  who  exclaimed,  in  a  loud  voice,  “  Woe  to  you,  children  of 
Ben-Zobaid  !  Fly  for  your  lives  !  it  is  your  only  hope  of  escape  ; 
for  death  is  about  to  shower  down  upon  you.  If  you  doubt  my 
w'ords,  look  up  and  behold  on  the  point  of  my  lance  the  head  of 
your  leader,  Kaled-Eben-Mohareb.” 

SECOND  FRAGMENT. 

Antar,  having  during  his  captivity  in  Persia,  rendered  im¬ 
portant  services  to  the  Persian  monarch,  that  prince  restored  him 
to  liberty,  and  sent  him  home  laden  with  valuable  presents,  in 
money,  horses,  slaves,  cattle  and  arms  of  all  sorts.  On  his  road 
he  encountered  a  warrior  of  renowned  valor,  who  had  made  Ab- 
11a  a  prisoner,  killed  him,  and  carried  back  his  cousin  with  him. 

VOL.  ii.  4* 


70 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Arrived  within  a  short  distance  of  his  tribe,  he  sent  to  advertise 
his  kinsman,  who  had  long  believed  him  dead;  and  overjoyed  at 
the  announcement  of  his  return,  set  out  to  meet  him,  accompanied 
by  King  Zoheir  himself.  The  enraptured  Antar  no  sooner 
perceived  them,  than  he  sprang  from  his  horse  and  ran  to  kiss  the 
stirrup  of  the  king,  who  cordially  embraced  him ;  an  example 
followed  by  all  the  other  chiefs,  happy  in  his  restoration  to  them. 
Amara,  alone,  his  rejected  rival,  appeared  dissatisfied. 

To  do  honor  to  his  sovereign,  Antar  rode  by  his  side,  confiding 
the  guardianship  of  his  affianced  bride  to  ten  negroes,  who,  at 
night,  fell  asleep  upon  their  camels.  Ablla  having  done  the 
same  in  her  houdah,  was  alarmed,  on  waking,  to  find  herself  far 
from  the  rest  of  the  troop.  Her  cries  roused  the  negroes,  who 
then  discovered  that  their  camels  had  wandered  from  the  road. 
While  they  were  dispersed  at  a  distance,  endeavoring  to  recover 
the  track,  Ablla,  who  had  alighted,  was  seized  by  a  horseman, 
who  placed  her  on  a  pillion  behind  him. 

Amara,  enraged  at  the  honors  lavished  upon  his  rival,  had 
"withdrawn  from  the  court,  and  meeting  Ablla  alone,  resolved  to 
carry  her  off.  When  she  upbraided  him  with  such  baseness,  so 
unworthy  an  emir,  “  I  would  rather,”  said  he,  “  possess  you  by 
violence,  than  die  with  vexation  on  seeing  you  espoused  to  Antar.” 
So  saying,  he  galloped  off  with  her,  and  took  refuge  in  a  power¬ 
ful  tribe,  hostile  to  Ben-Abess.  Meanwhile  the  negroes,  having 
recovered  the  road,  returned  to  take  up  the  houdah,  not  once  sus¬ 
pecting  that  Ablla  had  quitted  it.  Antar,  after  accompanying  the 
king  home,  returned  to  meet  his  bride,  but  to  his  astonishment 
and  dismay  found  the  houdah  empty.  All  attempts  to  gain  intel¬ 
ligence  of  her  from  the  negroes  proving  ineffectual,  he  spent 
many  days  galloping  fruitlessly  in  every  direction  in  search  of 
his  beloved,  lamenting  her  loss  in  the  following  lines  : 

“  Sleep  has  forsaken  my  eyelids,  tears  have  furrowed  my 
cheek. 

“  My  constancy  is  my  torture,  and  leaves  me  no  repose. 

“  So  momentary  was  our  meeting,  it  has  but  aggravated  my 
sufferings. 

“  This  estrangement,  these  perpetual  separations  lacerate 
my  heart.  Ben-Abess,  how  mournfully  I  regret  your  tents. 

“  What  torrents  of  useless  tears  have  I  shed,  at  a  distance 
from  my  dearly  beloved. 

“  My  prayer  would  be  accomplished  were  my  moments  of 
happiness  by  thy  side  but  such  as  the  miser  would  allow  for  the 
contemplation  of  his  treasure.” 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


71 


After  long  and  vain  researches,  Antar  returned,  resolving  to 
send  his  brother  Chaiboub  in  disguise  on  the  same  errand :  the 
latter,  after  a  rather  long  absence,  brought  intelligence  that  he 
had  found  Ablla  in  the  household  of  Mafarey-Eben-Hammarn, 
who  had  taken  her  by  force  from  Amara,  intending  to  make  her 
his  wife  ;  but,  resolved  to  avoid  such  espousals,  she  feigned  mad¬ 
ness,  and  Mafarey,  in  revenge,  obliged  her  to  serve  as  a  domestic 
slave  in  his  family  ;  where  she  was  exposed  to  the  ill-treatment 
of  his  mother,  who  employed  her  in  the  severest  labors.  I  heard 
her  pronounce  your  name,  added  Chaiboub,  in  these  verses  : 

“  Come,  my  kindred,  to  my  deliverance ;  or  at  least  inform 
Antar  of  my  sad  situation. 

“  Grief  has  consumed  my  strength  ;  misfortune  in  every  shape 
oppresses  me  since  my  absence  from  the  lion. 

“  The  slightest  breath  of  wind  sufficed  to  impair  my  health ; 
judge  then  of  my  sufferings  under  the  hardships  to  which  I  am 
reduced. 

“  My  patience  is  exhausted  ;  my  enemies  ought  to  be  satis¬ 
fied  ;  what  humiliations  do  I  suffer,  since  I  have  lost  the  hero  of 
my  heart ! 

“  Ah  !  if  it  be  possible,  restore  me  to  Antar ;  the  lion  alone 
can  protect  the  gazelle. 

“  My  miseries  would  soften  rocks.” 

Antar  would  listen  no  longer,  but  rode  away,  and  after  many 
and  sanguinary  combats,  achieved  the  deliverance  of  Ablla. 

REFLECTIONS  OF  ANTAR. 

“  Let  your  sword  be  dreaded  by  your  enemies ;  stay  not 
where  you  are  despised. 

“  Establish  yourself  amidst  the  witnesses  of  your  triumphs,  or 
perish  gloriously  with  arms  in  your  hand. 

“  Be  despotic  with  despots  ;  unrelenting  with  the  cruel. 

“  If  your  friend  desert  you,  seek  not  to  recall  him ;  but  close 
your  ears  against  the  calumnies  of  his  rivals. 

“  There  is  no  refuge  from  death. 

“  It  is  better  to  die  in  battle,  than  to  live  in  slavery. 

“  Though  I  be  reckoned  amongst  slaves,  my  actions  pierce  the 
clouds,  their  glory  reaches  to  the  skies. 

“  I  owe  my  renown  to  my  sword,  not  to  nobleness  of  birth. 

“  My  lofty  deeds  shall  extort  respect  for  my  birth  from  the 
warriors  of  Ben-Abess,  who  might  be  tempted  to  despise  it. 

“  Behold  the  captured  warriors  and  coursers  who  attest  the 
victories  of  my  arm. 


72 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


“I  have  spurred  my  horse  into  the  centre  of  the  enemy,  amid 
the  dust  of  the  combat,  in  the  heat  of  the  action. 

<£  I  have  brought  him  back  smeared  with  blood,  bemoaning  my 
unequaled  activity. 

“  The  battle  ended,  he  was  of  one  hue  all  over. 

“  I  have  killed  their  most  terrible  warriors  ;  Rabiha-Hafrebar, 
Giaber-Eben-Mehalka,  and  the  son  of  Rabiha-Zabrke  lay  dead  ira 
the  field  of  battle. 

“  Zahiba  (Antar’s  mother)  chides  me  for  exposing  myself  by 
night ;  she  fears  lest  numbers  should  overpower  me. 

“  She  would  affright  me  with  the  image  of  death,  as  if  we 
were  not  destined  one  day  to  yield  to  it. 

“  £  Death,’  I  replied,  £  is  a  fountain  of  which  sooner  or  later  all 
must  drink.’ 

“  Cease  then  to  torment  yourself ;  for  if  I  sought  not  death  I 
should  deserve  it. 

“  I  will  vanquish  all  kings,  who  are  already  at  my  feet,  trem¬ 
bling  at  the  blows  of  this  dreadful  arm. 

“  The  very  tigers  and  lions  crouch  to  me. 

“  Coursers  bend  their  heads  as  if  mourning  their  masters. 

“  I  am  the  son  of  a  woman  of  black  complexion,  with  the  limbs 
of  an  ostrich,  and  hair  curling  as  grains  of  pepper. 

“  O  ye  who  return  from  the  tribe,  what  is  passing  there  ? 

“Carry  my  greetings  to  her  whose  love  has  preserved  me 
from  death. 

“  My  enemies  long  for  my  humiliation ;  cruel  fate  !  they  tri¬ 
umph  in  my  abasement. 

“  Tell  them  that  their  slave  deplores  their  distance  from  him. 

“  If  your  laws  permit  you  to  kill  me,  satisfy  your  desire  ;  no 
one  will  call  you  to  account  for  my  blood.” 

Antar,  having  precipitated  himself  into  the  midst  of  the  ene¬ 
my,  was  lost  to  the  eyes  of  his  friends,  who  fearing  for  his  life,  were 
preparing  to  fly  to  his  succor,  when  he  re-appeared  bearing  the 
head  of  the  adverse  chief,  and  reciting  these  verses  : — 

“  If  I  slake  not  my  thirsty  sword  in  the  blood  of  the  enemy,  if 
that  flow  not  from  its  point,  let  my  eyes  be  strangers  to  repose, 
though  I  renounce  the  happiness  of  seeing  Ablla  in  my  dreams. 

“  I  am  more  insatiable  than  death  itself ;  for  1  burn  to  destroy 
those  for  whom  he  would  consent  to  wait. 

“  Death,  beholding  my  exploits,  ought  to  respect  my  per¬ 
son.  The  arms  of  the  Bedouins  will  be  short  against  me,  the 
most  terrible  of  warriors  ;  me,  the  lion  in  his  fury  ;  me,  by  whose 
sword  and  lance  souls  are  set  at  liberty. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


73 


“  When  I  can  find  death,  I  will  make  him  a  turban  of  my  sword, 
the  blood  on  which  enhances  its  brightness. 

“  I  am  the  lion,  who  protects  all  that  belong  to  him. 

“  My  actions  shall  be  immortal. 

“  My  black  complexion  is  blanched  when  passion  for  battle 
inflames  my  heart ;  my  love  is  then  extravagant,  persuasion  no 
longer  restrains  me. 

“  Be  my  neighbor  ever  triumphant ;  my  enemy  humbled,  fear¬ 
ful  and  without  asylum. 

“  By  the  Almighty,  who  created  the  seven  heavens,  and  who 
knows  futurity,  I  will  cease  from  combat  only  with  the  de¬ 
struction  of  my  enemy ;  I,  the  lion  of  the  earth,  always  ready  for 
war. 

“  My  refuge  is  in  the  dust  of  the  battle  field. 

“  I  have  put  to  flight  hostile  hosts,  by  laying  prostrate  the  corpse 
of  their  chief. 

“  Behold  his  blood  flowing  from  my  sabre. 

“  O,  Ben-Abess  !  prepare  your  triumphs,  and  glory  in  a  Negro 
who  has  a  throne  in  the  skies. 

“  Inquire  my  name  of  the  sabres  and  lances,  they  will  tell 
you  that  I  am  called  Antar  (courageous).” 

Ablla’s  father,  determined  against  giving  his  daughter  to  An¬ 
tar,  had  quitted  the  tribe  in  his  absence.  The  hero,  on  his  return, 
not  finding  his  cousin,  composed  these  lines : 

“  How  can  I  deny  my  love  for  Ablla,  when  my  tears  bear  wit¬ 
ness  to  my  grief  for  her  absence  ?  Separated  from  her,  the  fire 
which  consumes  me  becomes  every  day  more  intense  ;  I  cannot 
conceal  sufferings  which  are  incessantly  renewed. 

“  My  patience  diminishes,  while  my  longing  to  behold  her 
augments. 

“  To  God  alone  I  complain  of  my  uncle’s  tyranny,  for  no  one 
comes  to  my  assistance. 

“  My  friends  !  love  is  destroying  me — me,  so  strong,  so 
dreaded. 

“  O,  daughter  of  Mallek  !  I  prohibit  sleep  to  my  wearied 
frame ;  could  it,  indeed,  taste  sleep  upon  a  bed  of  burning  char¬ 
coal. 

“  So  incessant  are  my  lamentations,  that  the  very  birds  know 
my  grief,  and  lament  in  sympathy. 

“  I  kiss  the  earth  which  thy  feet  have  touched ;  it  may  be  its 
coolness  will  allay  the  fire  in  my  heart. 

“  O,  beautiful  Ablla  !  my  mind  and  heart  are  wandering,  while 
thy  herds  repose  in  safety  under  my  protection. 


74 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


“  Take  pity  on  my  distress ;  I  will  be  faithful  to  you  to  eter¬ 
nity- 

u  In  vain  my  rivals  rejoice ;  my  body  shall  know  no  rest.” 


FRAGMENTS  OF  ARABIC  POETRY. 

A  certain  Caliph,  who,  while  following  the  chase,  had  been 
separated  from  his  attendants,  and  lost  his  way,  arrived  alone  at  a 
spring,  at  which  three  Bedouin  maidens  were  drawing  water. 
Fie  asked  them  for  a  draught,  and  each  of  the  three  hastened  to 
present  one.  Charmed  with  their  courteousness,  the  Caliph  wish¬ 
ed  to  recompense  them,  but  having  no  money,  he  broke  his  arrows, 
(which  were  of  gold,)  and  distributed  the  fragments  amongst  them  ; 
for  which  each  of  them  returned  her  thanks  in  verse. 

The  first  said : — “  If  thy  arrows  are  of  gold,  it  is  to  mark  thy 
generosity  even  toward  the  enemy.  Thou  affordest,  thus,  to  the 
wounded  the  means  of  cure,  and  to  the  dead  the  means  of  defray¬ 
ing  their  obsequies.” 

The  second  said  : — “  In  the  combat  thy  too  open  hand  extends 
its  largesses  even  to  its  enemies.  Thine  arrows  are  of  a  precious 
metal,  to  prove  that  war  hinders  thee  not  from  benevolence.” 

The  third  said  : — “  In  the  day  of  combat,  he  lets  fly  amongst 
his  enemies  arrows  of  massive  gold  ;  that  the  wounded  may  be 
shielded  from  desolation,  and  that  the  dead  may  bury  themselves 
in  winding  sheets.” 

An  Arabian  having  brought  a  blush  to  a  maiden’s  cheek  by  the 
earnestness  of  his  gaze,  said  to  her :  “  My  looks  have  planted 
roses  on  your  cheeks  ;  why  forbid  my  plucking  them  ?  The  law 
permits  him  who  sows  to  reap  the  harvest.” 

Tanbe-Eben-Homager  composed  a  great  many  verses  on  his 
beloved  Lailla-el-Akeatial ;  among  others,  the  following  :  “  If, 
after  my  decease,  Lailla-el-Akeatial  should  visit  my  resting-place 
to  address  me,  my  voice  would  pierce  the  earth  and  rocks  that 
cover  me,  in  answer  to  her  ;  or  the  echo  of  my  tomb  itself  should 
be  heard.” 

Such  was  the  violence  of  Tanbe’s  passion,  that  it  occasioned 
his  death.  Not  long  afterwards,  Lailla,  accompanied  by  her  hus¬ 
band — for  she  was  married — passed  at  no  great  distance  from  the 
tomb  of  Tanbe,  and  her  husband  told  her  to  go  and  speak  to  that 
madman,  to  see  whether  he  would  answer  her  as  he  had  promised 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


75 


in  his  verses.  She  would  have  excused  herself,  but  he  angrily- 
repeated  the  command;  and  constrained  to  obey,  she  turned  her 
camel’s  head  towards  the  tomb,  and,  on  reaching  it,  asked 
“  Tanbe,  are  you  here  V3 

At  these  words  a  large  bird  took  flight  from  a  neighboring 
bush,  and  frightened  the  camel,  which  recoiled  with  a  bound,  and 
threw  Lailla  to  the  ground.  She  was  killed  by  the  fall,  and  in¬ 
terred  near  Tanbe. 

Ehnassondi  said  to  me : — “  I  have  seen  you  shed  tears  of 
blood,  so  great  was  your  constancy;  why  are  those  tears  now 
turned  white  V3 

I  answered  : — “  It  is  neither  forgetfulness  nor  infidelity  on 
my  part ;  but  I  have  wept  so  long  that  my  tears  have  become 
white  with  age.” 


On  the  28th  of  March,  I  left  Bayreut  for  Balbec  and  Damas¬ 
cus.  The  caravan  consisted  of  twenty-six  horses,  and  eight  or 
ten  Arabs  on  foot,  as  servants  and  escort. 

On  quitting  Bayreut,  the  road  ascends  by  paths  cut  in  a  red 
sandy  soil.  The  edges  of  these  paths,  which  are  adorned  with 
the  various  flowers  of  Asia,  present  all  the  colors  and  exhale  all 
the  perfumes  of  Spring.  Besides  these  flowers,  I  observed  the 
nopal,  a  thorny  shrub,  with  clustering  yellow  flowers,  like  the 
broom  of  our  mountains;  the  caronbier,  the  most  beautiful  tree 
of  these  regions,  with  leaves  of  a  dark  brownish  green,  inter¬ 
twining  branches,  and  a  brown  glossy  bark.  The  vine,  too,  was 
hanging  in  festoons  from  tree  to  tree.  After  journeying  about 
half  an  hour,  we  reached  the  summit  of  the  peninsula  which 
forms  the  Cape  of  Bayreut.  It  terminates  by  a  rounded  point 
extending  in  the  sea,  and  its  base  is  formed  by  a  beautiful  wide 
plain,  intersected  by  the  Nahr-Bayreut. 

This  plain,  which  is  well  watered  and  cultivated,  and  thickly 
planted  with  fine  palms,  green  mulberry  trees,  and  pines  with 
their  broad  and  tufted  tops,  terminates  at  the  foot  of  the  first  hills 
of  the  Libanus. 

At  the  culminating  point  of  the  plain  of  Bayreut,  appears  the 
magnificent  scene  of  Fakar-el-Din,  or  Facar-Din.  This  is  the 
grand  promenade  and  ride  of  Bayreut,  and  the  daily  resort  of 
Turkish,  Arab,  and  European  horsemen.  I  used  to  pass  some 
hours  there  every  day,  sometimes  galloping  over  the  sandy  deserts 
which  command  the  vast  blue  horizon  of  the  Syrian  sea,  and 


76 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


sometimes  pacing  and  meditating  beneath  the  alleys  of  young 
pine  trees  which  cover  a  part  of  the  promontory. 

This  is  the  most  beautiful  spot  I  ever  saw  in  the  world  ;  gigan¬ 
tic  pines,  whose  vigorous  trunks  slightly  incline  beneath  the  sea 
breeze,  and  whose  wide-spreading  tops,  rounded  like  domes,  are 
grouped  two  or  three  together,  or  scattered  singly  at  the  distance 
of  twenty  paces  one  from  another  over  the  gold-colored  sand, 
bepatched  here  and  there  by  a  light  green  down  of  turf  and  ane¬ 
mones.  These  pines  were  planted  by  Fakar-el-Din,  whose  mar¬ 
vellous  adventures  have  spread  his  fame  in  Europe.  The  place 
still  retains  his  name.  I  saw  with  regret  a  more  modern  hero 
daily  hewing  down  the  trees  which  another  great  man  had  planted. 
Ibrahim  Pacha  has  ordered  many  to  be  felled  for  the  use  of  his 
navy.  But  there  still  remain  enough  to  mark  out  the  promontory 
to  the  eye  of  the  navigator,  and  to  render  it  the  admiration  of 
every  lover  of  the  romantic  scenery  of  nature. 

1  think  the  finest  view  of  the  Libanus  is  that  which  is  obtained 
from  Fakar-el-Din.  The  spectator  is  there  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountains,  but  yet  sufficiently  distant  to  be  beyond  their  shade, 
and  to  embrace  with  his  eye  their  whole  height,  to  discern  the 
gloom  of  their  defiles  and  the  foam  of  their  torrents,  and  to  com¬ 
mand  a  perfectly  distinct  view  of  the  first  cones  which  flank  the 
mountains,  and  on  each  of  which  rises  a  monastery  of  Maronites, 
surrounded  by  a  grove  of  pines,  cedars,  or  black  cypresses. 

The  Sannin,  the  most  elevated  and  pyramidal  ridge  of  the 
Libanus,  commands  all  the  inferior  ridges,  and  with  its  almost 
perpetual  snow  majestically  bounds  the  gold,  violet,  and  pink 
horizon  of  the  mountains,  which  floats  in  the  firmament  like  a 
vapor — a  transparent  smoke,  through  which  one  seems  to  discern 
the  other  side  of  the  heavens.  This  is  a  phenomenon  which  I 
never  saw  any  where  except  among  the  mountains  of  Asia,  and 
I  used  to  gaze  on  it  every  evening  with  delight.  On  the  southern 
side,  the  Libanus  gradually  lowers  to  the  advanced  cap  of  Saide, 
formerly  Sidon.  Its  ridges  are  no  longer  covered  with  snow, 
except  here  and  there  two  or  three  more  remote  and  more  elevated 
than  the  others  and  the  rest  of  the  Libanian  chain.  Like  a 
ruined  city  wall,  now  rising,  now  falling,  they  follow  the  line  of 
the  plain  and  the  sea,  and  are  lost  in  the  vapor  of  the  west, 
towards  the  mountains  of  Galilee,  on  the  shore  of  the  sea  of 
Genesareth,  otherwise  the  lake  of  Tiberias. 

On  the  north  is  perceived  a  corner  of  the  sea,  which  advances 
into  the  plain  like  a  dead  lake,  and  is  half  concealed  by  the 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


77 


massive  verdure  of  San  Dimitri,  the  most  beautiful  hill  in  Syria. 
In  this  lake,  whose  junction  with  the  sea  is  not  discernible,  some 
vessels  are  always  lying  at  anchor ;  and  on  its  banks  grow  len- 
tisks,  laurels,  and  nopals. 

From  the  harbor,  a  bridge,  constructed  by  the  Romans  and 
restored  by  Fakar-el-Din,  rises  in  lofty  ogive  arches  across  the 
river  of  Bayreut.  The  latter  crosses  the  plain,  through  which  it 
diffuses  life  and  verdure,  and  then  is  lost  at  a  little  distance  down 
the  harbor. 

This  was  the  last  excursion  I  made  with  Julia.  She  was 
mounted,  for  the  first  time,  on  a  horse  of  the  desert,  which  I 
brought  from  the  Dead  Sea,  and  which  she  rode,  led  by  an  Arab 
servant.  We  were  alone;  the  day,  though  in  November,  was 
bright  and  warm,  and  the  ground  was  covered  with  verdure.  I 
never  before  saw  Julia  so  perfectly  enjoying  her  existence,  and 
deriving  such  rapturous  sensations  from  the  objects  she  beheld 
around  her.  She  every  moment  turned  towards  me  with  some 
exclamation  of  delight;  and  when  we  had  rode  round  the  hill  of 
San  Dimitri,  crossed  the  plain,  and  reached  the  pine  trees,  where 
we  halted,  she  said,  “Surely  this  is  the  longest  and  most  delight¬ 
ful  excursion  I  ever  had  in  my  life  !”  Alas  !  it  was  the  last! 

A  fortnight  afterwards,  I  was  riding  alone,  and  weeping  be¬ 
neath  those  same  trees,  and  the  image  of  the  celestial  being  whom 
I  had  possessed  and  lost,  existed  only  in  my  breast.  I  no  longer 
live  ;  to  me  nature  has  lost  those  charms  which  I  felt,  as  it  were, 
doubly  through  the  mind  of  my  child.  I  see  her  yet — she  still 
delights  my  eyes;  but  she  no  longer  animates  my  heart:  and  if 
it  be  for  a  moment  animated,  it  soon  sinks  again,  cold  and  broken, 
into  the  gulf  of  sorrow  and  desolation  which  Heaven  has  prepared 
for  it  by  so  many  irreparable  losses. 

In  the  direction  of  the  east,  the  eye  rests  first  on  some  light 
hills  of  sand  as  red  as  fire,  from  whence  arise  a  sort  of  pinky-, 
white  vapor;  then,  following  the  line  of  the  horizon  across  the 
desert,  is  discerned  the  dark  blue  boundary  of  the  ocean,  which 
terminates  the  whole  picture,  and  in  the  distance  blends  with  the 
sky,  creating  a  mist  which  leaves  their  limits  undecided.  Over 
the  hills,  the  plain,  and  the  sides  of  the  mountains,  are  scattered 
numbers  of  pretty  little  detached  houses,  each  of  which  has  its 
orchard  of  mulberry,  pine,  and  fig  trees;  and  here  and  there,  in 
groups  more  compact  and  striking  to  the  eye,  villages  and  monas¬ 
teries  rise  on  their  rocky  pedestals,  and  reflect  on  the  ocean  the 
yellow  rays  of  the  eastern  sun.  Two  or  three  hundred  of  these 


78 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


monasteries  are  scattered  over  the  rocks,  promontories,  and  defiles 
of  the  Lihanus.  It  is  the  most  religious  country  in  the  world, 
and  the  only  one  perhaps  in  which  the  existence  of  the  monastic 
system  has  not  led  to  those  abuses  which  in  other  places  have 
brought  about  its  destruction. 

The  monks  of  this  part  of  the  world  are  poor  and  industrious, 
and  subsist  by  the  labor  of  their  hands.  They  are,  strictly 
speaking,  merely  pious  agriculturists ;  aad  the  only  boons  they 
ask  of  the  government,  and  the  population  are,  the  bit  of  ground 
which  they  cultivate,  and  the  privilege  of  being  left  undisturbed 
to  their  solitude  and  meditation.  Their  present  existence  in  the 
midst  of  these  Mahometan  regions  fully  explains  the  creation  of 
the  early  asylums  of  suffering  and  persecuted  Christianity,  and 
the  vast  multiplication  of  these  asylums  of  religious  liberty  in  the 
ages  of  barbarism  and  intolerance. 

Here  the  necessity  of  their  existence  was  first  felt,  and  here 
that  necessity  still  exists  to  the  Maronites ;  consequently,  these 
monks  have  continued  what  monks  should  be  every  where,  but 
what  they  cannot  be  any  where  save  by  exception.  If  the  present 
state  of  society  and  religion  be  suited  to  any  kind  of  monastic 
orders,  it  is  certainly  least  congenial  to  those  which  had  their 
birth  in  another  epoch,  and  were  created  for  other  circumstances 
and  other  necessities.  Every  as;e  has  its  social  and  religious 
creations.  The  wants  of  past  times  differ  from  the  wants  of  the 
present. 

There  are  only  two  things  which  can  be  better  effected  by 
modern  monastic  orders  than  by  governments  and  individual 
exertions :  namely,  the  intellectual  instruction  of  mankind  and 
the  relief  of  their  corporeal  miseries.  Schools  and  hospitals  are 
the  only  places  which  remain  open  to  monks  in  the  present  state 
of  things ;  but  before  they  are  fitted  to  occupy  those  places,  they 
must  themselves  share  the  light  which  they  would  attempt  to 
diffuse:  it  is  requisite  that  they  should  be  better  informed  and 
more  truly  moral  than  the  people  whom  they  wish  to  instruct  and 
improve.  But  to  return  to  the  Libanus. 

We  commenced  our  ascent  by  paths  and  steps  cut  in  the  rock  ; 
the  former  are  yellowish,  and  the  latter  slightly  tinged  with  pink  ; 
and  they  produce  those  beautiful  hues  in  which  the  mountain  is 
clothed  when  viewed  from  a  distance.  We  saw  nothing  remarka¬ 
ble  until  we  had  ascended  about  two-thirds  of  the  mountain,  when 
we  found  ourselves  on  the  summit  of  a  promontory  which  advan¬ 
ces  over  a  deep  valley. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAJND. 


79 


One  of  the  most  beautiful  prospects  which  the  works  of  God 
present  to  the  eyes  of  man,  is  the  valley  of  Hammana.  It  now 
lay  beneath  our  feet.  This  valley  commences  by  a  dark  and 
deep  defile,  dug  almost  like  a  grotto  under  the  snow  of  the  high¬ 
est  points  of  the  Libanus.  At  first,  it  is  distinguishable  only  by 
the  torrent  which  descends  from  the  mountains,  and  which  traces 
in  the  obscurity  a  line  of  moving  light.  It  insensibly  widens  as 
it  descends,  and  its  torrent  swells  from  cascade  to  cascade  ;  then, 
suddenly  taking  a  turn  to  the  east,  like  a  stream  which  by  falling 
into  a  river  becomes  itself  a  river,  it  joins  a  larger  valley,  and  is 
thus  itself  converted  into  a  valley.  It  extends,  in  an  average 
width  of  half  a  league,  between  two  chains  of  mountains;  and  it 
runs  in  the  direction  of  the  sea  by  a  regular  and  gentle  slope.  It 
rises  into  hills  wherever  the  masses  of  rock  obstruct  its  level 
course. 

On  these  hills  are  built  villages,  separated  by  ravines  ;  and  on 
each  of  the  vast  plateaux,  which  are  surrounded  by  dark  fir 
trees,  rises  a  fine  monastery.  Through  the  ravines  are  dispersed 
the  waters  of  a  thousand  cascades,  which  roll  downward  in  glit¬ 
tering  foam. 

The  flanks  of  the  Libanus,  which  enclose  the  valley,  are  them¬ 
selves  covered  with  groups  of  fir  trees,  convents,  and  villages, 
whose  blue  smoke  rises  to  the  summits  of  the  precipices.  At  the 
time  when  this  valley  opened  on  my  view,  the  sun  was  setting  on 
the  sea,  and  its  rays,  leaving  the  defiles  and  ravines  in  partial  ob¬ 
scurity,  merely  lighted  the  roofs  of  the  convents  and  village  hous¬ 
es,  and  the  tops  of  the  firs  and  other  lofty  trees.  The  waters 
which  were  then  much  swollen,  fell  from  all  the  shelves  of  the 
mountains,  and  gushed  in  foam  from  the  clefts  of  the  rocks,  em¬ 
bracing,  by  two  large  arms  of  silver  or  snow,  the  beautiful  plat¬ 
form  which  supports  the  villages,  convents,  and  groves  of  fir  trees. 
The  noise  of  the  descending  waters,  like  the  pealing  organ  of  a 
cathedral,  resounded  on  all  sides,  and  was  so  loud  as  to  be  almost 
stunning. 

I  have  rarely  felt  so  profoundly  the  peculiar  beauty  of  moun¬ 
tain  scenery  :  it  is  a  grave  and  melancholy  sort  of  beauty,  totally 
different  from  that  of  the  plains  or  the  sea.  It  is  a  beauty  which 
makes  the  heart  retire  within  itself,  instead  of  opening  it ;  and 
which  partakes  of  the  melancholy  reserve  attendant  on  religious 
feeling  in.  misfortune,  rather  than  the  expansion,  love,  and  joy 
which  accompany  religious  feeling  in  happiness  ! 

At  every  step  along  our  path,  which  formed  a  sort  of  cornice 


80 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLST  LAND. 


to  the  rock,  the  cascades  descended  on  our  heads,  or  flowed  into 
the  interstices  which  the  water  had  worked  for  itself  in  the  living 
rock.  These  interstices  were  like  gutters  to  the  lofty  roofs  of  the 
mountains,  and  incessantly  carried  the  waters  down  the  declivi¬ 
ties.  The  weather  was  hazy.  The  wind  howled  among  the  fir 
trees,  and  every  moment  wafted  along  clouds  of  snow,  which  were 
pierced  and  colored  by  the  fugitive  rays  of  the  March  sun.  I 
well  recollect  the  novel  and  picturesque  effect  presented  by  our 
eara.van,  as  it  crossed  one  of  the  ravines  of  these  cascades.  The 
rocky  flanks  of  the  Libanus  suddenly  took  a  turn  inward,  like  a 
deep  bay  on  the  sea  coast ; — a  torrent  confined  by  some  blocks  of 
granite,  filled  with  its  foaming  bubbles  this  cleft  in  the  mountain  : 
the  spray  of  the  cascade  which  fell  from  the  height  of  several  toi- 
ses  above,  was  driven  by  the  winds  over  the  two  promontories  of 
gray  rock  which  formed  the  sort  of  bay,  and  which,  suddenly  in¬ 
clining,  descended  to  the  bed  of  the  torrent  which  we  had  to  pass. 
A  narrow  path,  like  a  cornice,  running  along  these  two  projec¬ 
tions  of  rock,  was  the  only  way  by  which  we  could  descend  to  the 
torrent  in  order  to  cross  it.  Along  this  cornice  we  could  only 
pass  one  by  one  in  a  file.  I  was  almost  the  last  of  the  caravan. 
The  long  line  of  horses,  baggage,  and  travelers  descended  succes¬ 
sively  to  the  depth  of  this  gulf,  turning  and  disappearing  com¬ 
pletely  in  the  mist  of  the  waters,  and  re-appearing  by  degrees  on 
the  other  side  and  on  the  other  cornice  of  the  passage.  They 
were  at  first  veiled  in  vapor,  of  a  pale  yellow  color,  like  the 
smoke  of  sulphur  ;  next  white  and  transparent  like  the  silvery 
foam  of  the  waters  ;  and,  at  last,  brilliantly  colored  by  the  rays 
of  the  sun,  which  shone  out  more  brightly  as  the  file  re-ascended 
the^pposite  flank  of  the  mountain.  It  was  like  a  scene  from  the 
Inferno;  but  realized  more  terrifically  than  even  Dante’s  imagina¬ 
tion  could  have  conceived.  But  where  is  the  poet  like  nature  ? 
What  invention  is  like  that  of  God  ? 

Hammana,  a  Druse  village,  where  we  proposed  to  rest  for 
the  night,  was  already  visible  at  the  upper  opening  of  the  valley 
which  bears  its  name.  It  stands  on  a  mass  of  pointed  and  broken 
rock,  tipped  by  eternal  snow  ;  and  the  house  of  the  scheik  stands 
on  an  elevated  projection  of  rock  in  the  centre  of  the  village. 
Two  deep  torrents,  bedded  in  the  rocks,  and  here  and  there  ob¬ 
structed  by  blocks  which  break  their  foam,  completely  encircle 
the  village.  We  crossed  them  by  walking  over  some  trunks  of 
fir  trees,  over  which  some  earth  is  scattered  ;  and  from  thence  we 
climbed  to  the  houses.  These,  like  all  the  houses  of  the  Libanus 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


81 


and  Syria,  when  seen  from  a  distance,  present  an  appearance  of 
regularity  and  picturesque  architecture,  which  at  first  glance  de¬ 
ceives  the  eye  by  a  resemblance  to  groups  of  Italian  villas,  with 
their  terraced  roofs  and  their  balconies  adorned  with  balustrades. 

However,  the  castle  of  the  Scheik  of  Hammana  surpasses  in 
elegance  and  grandeur  every  similar  building  I  have  seen,  except 
the  palace  of  the  Emir  Beschir,  at  Dier-el-Kamar.  It  can  be 
compared  only  to  one  of  our  finest  Gothic  castles  of  the  middle 
ages, — such  at  least  as  their  ruins  denote  them  to  have  been,  or 
as  pictures  represent  them.  Windows  in  ogive  arches,  adorned 
with  balconies:  a  wide  and  lofty  entrance-gate,  surmounted  by  an 
ogive  arch  which  rises  like  a  portico  above  the  threshold  ;  two 
stone  benches  carved  in  arabesque  patterns,  and  placed  on  each 
side  of  the  gateway  ;  a  flight  of  seven  or  eight  semicircular  stone 
steps,  descending  to  a  broad  terrace  shaded  by  two  or  three  large 
sycamores,  and  refreshed  by  water  perpetually  running  in  a  mar¬ 
ble  fountain  :  such  was  the  scene.  Seven  or  eight  armed  Dru¬ 
ses,  arrayed  in  their  gay-colored  costume,  and  standing  in  mar¬ 
tial  attitude,  seemed  to  await  the  orders  of  their  chief ;  one  or  two 
negroes,  clothed  in  blue  jackets  ;  a  few  young  slaves  or  pages 
sitting  at  play  on  the  flight  of  steps  ;  and  under  the  arch  of  the 
great  doorway,  the  scheik  himself,  wrapped  in  his  scarlet  pelisse, 
with  a  pipe  in  his  hand,  and  seated  in  an  attitude  indicative  of  power 
and  repose  ;  two  young  and  beautiful  females,  the  one  looking 
from  a  window  at  the  top  of  the  building,  and  the  other  in  a  bal¬ 
cony  above  the  door:  such  were  the  figures  of  the  picture. 

At  Hammana  we  slept  in  a  chamber  which  had  been  prepared 
for  us  some  days  previously.  We  rose  before  the  sun,  and  as¬ 
cended  the  last  height  of  the  Libanus.  Our  ascent  occupied  an 
hour  and  a  half,  and  at  length  we  found  ourselves  in  the  regions 
of  snow.  We  proceeded  along  an  elevated  plain,  lightly  undu¬ 
lated  by  hillocks,  like  the  summit  of  the  Alps,  and  gained  the 
defile  leading  to  the  other  side  of  the  Libanus.  After  journeying 
for  two  hours,  two  or  three  feet  deep  in  snow,  we  discerned  the 
lofty  and  frozen  points  of  the  Anti-Libanus  ;  next,  its  naked  and 
barren  sides  ;  and  at  last,  the  beautiful  broad  plain  of  Bka,  form¬ 
ing  a  continuation  of  the  valley  of  Balbec  on  the  right.  This 
plain  commences  at  the  desert  of  Horus  and  Hama,  and  does  not 
terminate  till  it  reaches  the  mountains  of  Galilee,  near  Saphad. 
It  is  one  of  the  finest  and  most  fertile  plains  in  the  world,  but  it 
is  scarcely  cultivated  :  it  is  still  infested  by  wandering  Arabs ; 
and  the  inhabitants  of  Balbec,  Zakle,  and  the  other  villages  of  the 


82 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Libanus,  can  with  difficulty  venture  to  sow  a  few  seeds  in  it.  It 
is  watered  by  numerous  torrents  and  inexhaustible  springs  ;  and 
at  the  time  when  we  saw  it,  it  presented  the  aspect  of  a  marsh,  or 
an  ill-drained  lake,  rather  than  a  plain. 

At  four  o’clock  we  descended  to  the  town  of  Zakle  ;  and  the 
Greek  bishop,  a  native  of  Aleppo,  received  us  and  provided  us 
with  lodgings.  We  again  set  out  on  the  30th,  to  cross  the  plain 
of  Bka,  and  to  sleep  at  Balbec. 


RUINS  OF  BALBEC. 

We  left  Zakle,  which  is  a  pretty  Christian  village  at  the  foot 
of  the  Libanus,  on  the  border  of  the  plain  facing  the  Anti-Liba- 
nus  ;  and  we  pursued  our  course  along  the  roots  of  the  moun¬ 
tains,  reascending  in  the  direction  of  the  north.  We  passed  a 
ruined  edifice,  on  the  remains  of  which  the  Turks  have  erected 
a  dervish’s  house,  and  a  mosque,  presenting  a  grand  and  pic¬ 
turesque  effect.  According  to  Arabian  traditions,  this  is  the  tomb 
of  Noah,  whose  ark  touched  the  summit  of  the  Sanium,  and  who 
dwelt  in  the  lovely  valley  of  Balbec,  where  he  died  and  was 
buried.  Some  ancient  arches,  and  other  structures  of  Greek  or 
Roman  origin,  seem  to  confirm  the  traditions.  It  would  appear  at 
least  that  in  all  ages  this  spot  has  been  consecrated  by  the  memory 
of  some  great  event : — stones  support  the  evidence  of  history. 
We  journeyed  onward,  not  without  reflecting  on  those  remote 
days  when  the  children  of  the  patriarch  dwelt  in  these  primitive 
regions,  and  laid  the  foundations  of  buildings  which  are  now 
problematical  to  us. 

We  were  seven  hours  in  crossing  obliquely  the  plain  leading 
to  Balbec.  When  we  arrived  at  the  river  which  intersects  the 
plain,  our  Arab  escorts  wished  to  oblige  us  to  direct  our  course  to 
the  right,  and  to  sleep  that  night  in  a  Turkish  village  three 
leagues  from  Balbec.  My  dragoman  could  not  enforce  obedi¬ 
ence  to  my  orders,  and  I  was  obliged  to  gallop  back  to  the  other 
side  of  the  river  to  force  the  two  chiefs  of  the  caravan  to  follow 
us.  I  advanced  upon  them  whip  in  hand  ;  but  a  threat  sufficed 
to  make  them  accompany  us,  though  not  without  murmuring. 

As  we  approached  the  Anti-Libanus,  the  plain  became  more 
dry  and  rocky.  Anemones  and  snow-drops  were  as  numerous  as 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


83 


the  bubbles  beneath  our  feet.  We  began  to  perceive  an  immense 
black  mass,  which  detached  itself  from  the  white  sides  of  the  Anti- 
Libanus  :  this  was  Balbec.  At  length  we  reached  the  first  ruin  : 
this  was  a  small  octagonal  temple,  supported  on  columns  of  red 
Egyptian  marble.  Several  of  the  most  lofty  of  these  columns 
have  evidently  been  truncated,  as  some  have  a  volute  at  the  cap¬ 
ital,  and  others  have  no  trace  of  any  volute.  In  my  opinion,  they 
have  been  transported  hither  and  cut  at  a  very  recent  period,  for 
the  purpose  of  supporting  the  cap  of  a  Turkish  mosque  or  the 
roof  of  a  santon,  probably  in  the  time  of  Fakar-el-Din.  The  ma¬ 
terials  are  fine,  and  the  workmanship  of  the  cornices  and  the  roof 
bear  some  traces  of  skill  in  art ;  but  these  materials  are  evidently 
fragments  of  ruins,  restored  by  a  comparatively  feeble  hand  and 
a  taste  already  corrupt. 

This  temple  is  situated  at  a  quarter  of  an  hour’s  journey  from 
Balbec.  Impatient  to  gain  sight  of  the  grand  and  mysterious 
monuments  bequeathed  to  us  by  the  most  remote  antiquity,  we 
urged  on  our  horses,  who  were  beginning  to  manifest  symptoms 
of  fatigue,  and  were  stumbling  here  and  there  over  blocks  of 
marble,  shafts  of  columns,  and  capitals.  The  boundary  walls 
of  all  the  fields  surrounding  Balbec  are  built  of  these  ruins : 
antiquaries  may  here  find  an  enigma  in  every  stone.  Some 
traces  of  cultivation  began  to  re- appear,  and  large  walnut  trees, 
the  first  I  had  seen  in  Syria,  rose  between  Balbec  and  us,  and 
their  branches  still  concealed  from  us  the  ruins  of  the  temples. 
At  length  we  discovered  them.  They  were  not,  properly  speak¬ 
ing,  either  temples  or  ruins. 

We  beheld  before  us  a  hill  of  architecture,  which  suddenly 
rose  above  the  plain  at  some  distance  from  the  hills  of  the  Anti- 
Libanus.  We  passed  along  one  of  the  sides  of  this  hill  of  ruins, 
upon  which  rises  a  forest  of  graceful  columns.  These  were  now 
gilded  by  the  setting  sun,  and  presented  the  dead  yellow  tints  of 
the  marble  of  the  Parthenon,  or  the  tuff  of  the  Coliseum  at  Rome. 
Among  these  columns  there  are  some  still  retaining  uninjured 
their  richly  carved  capitals  and  cornices :  they  are  ranged  in 
long  and  elegant  files  along  the  walls  which  enclose  the  sanctua¬ 
ries.  Some  are  reclining  against  the  walls,  and  are  supported 
by  them,  like  trees  whose  roots  are  decayed  whilst  their  trunks 
still  remain  sound  and  vigorous.  Others,  more  numerous,  are 
scattered  here  and  there,  forming  immense  masses  of  marble  or 
stone  on  the  slopes  of  the  hill,  in  the  deep  hollows  round  it,  and 
even  in  the  bed  of  the  river  which  flows  at  its  feet. 


84 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


On  the  level  summit  of  the  mountain  of  stone,  not  far  from 
the  inferior  temple,  there  rise  six  pillars  of  gigantic  dimensions, 
still  adorned  with  their  colossal  cornices.  We  continued  our 
course  by  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  until  the  columns  and  ar¬ 
chitecture  ended,  and  we  saw  only  gigantic  walls  built  of  enor¬ 
mous  stones,  and  almost  all  bearing  traces  of  sculpture : — these 
are  the  wrecks  of  another  age,  and  were  employed  at  a  subse¬ 
quent  but  now  remote  period  for  the  erection  of  the  temples  at 
present  lying  in  ruins. 

We  proceeded  very  little  farther  that  day.  The  road  di¬ 
verged  from  these  ruins  and  led  us  to  others.  We  passed  over 
some  vaults,  which  resounded  beneath  our  horses5  hoofs,  and  at 
length  we  arrived  at  a  little  house.  This  was  the  palace  of  the 
Bishop  of  Balbec,  who,  clothed  in  his  violet-colored  pelisse,  and 
attended  by  some  Arab  peasants,  advanced  to  meet  us,  and  con¬ 
ducted  us  to  his  humble  door.  The  poorest  peasant’s  cottage  in 
Burgundy  or  Auvergne  possesses  greater  luxury  and  elegance 
than  the  palace  of  the  Bishop  of  Balbec.  It  was  an  ill-built  hut, 
without  either  window  or  door,  and  through  the  decayed  roof  the 
rain  worked  its  way  and  dropped  on  the  mud  floor.  This  was 
the  Bishop’s  dwelling  !  But  at  the  farther  end  of  the  yard  which 
adjoined  the  house,  a  neat  wall  newly  built  of  blocks  of  stone,  and 
a  door  and  a  window  in  ogives  of  Moorish  architecture,  each 
ogive  being  constructed  of  finely  sculptured  stones,  attracted  my 
attention.  This  was  the  church  of  Balbec,  the  cathedral  of  that 
town  in  which  other  gods  have  had  splendid  temples — the  chapel 
in  which  the  few  Arab  Christians  who  live  here  amidst  the 
wrecks  of  so  many  different  faiths,  worship,  under  a  purer  form, 
the  universal  Creator. 

We  deposited  our  cloaks  beneath  the  hospitable  roof  of  the 
bishop,  and  we  left  our  horses  to  graze  in  a  large  field  between 
the  priest’s  house  and  the  ruins.  We  collected  some  brambles 
and  kindled  a  fire  to  dry  our  clothes,  which  had  been  wet  by  the 
rain :  and  we  supped  in  the  yard  of  the  bishop’s  house,  on  a  table 
formed  of  some  fragments  cf  stone  belonging  to  the  temples. 
Whilst  we  were  at  supper,  we  heard  the  litany  of  the  evening 
prayer  resounding  in  a  plaintive  chant,  and  the  deep  sonorous 
voice  of  the  bishop  murmuring  the  pious  orisons  to  his  flock  :  the 
latter  consisted  of  a  few  Arab  shepherds  and  women.  When  the 
little  group  quitted  the  church  and  gathered  round  our  table  to 
look  at  us,  we  saw  none  but  friendly  faces,  and  heard  nothing  but 
kind  words — the  touching  and  simple  salutations  of  a  primitive 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


85 


people  who  have  not  yet  made  a  vain  formula  of  the  greeting  of 
man  to  man,  but  who  concentrate  in  a  few  words  applicable  to 
the  meetings  of  morning,  noon,  and  evening,  all  that  hospitality 
can  suggest  as  most  welcome  and  beneficial  to  their  guests — all 
that  one  traveler  can  wish  to  another  for  the  day,  the  night,  the 
journey,  and  the  return.  We  were  Christians — this  was  enough 
to  them  :  common  religion  is  the  strongest  link  of  sympathy  among 
nations.  A  common  idea  between  man  and  man  is  more  than  a 
common  country  ;  and  the  Christians  of  the  East,  surrounded  by 
Mahometanism,  which  threatens  and  persecutes  them,  always  look 
upon  the  Christians  of  the  West  as  their  present  protectors  and 
future  deliverers.  Europe  is  not  sufficiently  aware  that  she  pos¬ 
sesses  in  these  Christian  populations  a  lever  sufficiently  powerful 
to  move  the  East,  whenever  she  may  direct  attention  to  it,  and  to 
confer  on  that  quarter  of  the  world,  which  is  verging  on  a  neces¬ 
sary  and  inevitable  transformation,  the  liberty  and  civilization  it 
is  so  well  fitted  for  and  so  worthy  to  enjoy. 

The  moment  has,  I  think,  arrived  for  transporting  into  the 
heart  of  Asia  a  European  colony,  which  would  carry  back  mod¬ 
ern  civilization  to  those  regions  from  whence  ancient  civilization 
came,  and  form  a  vast  empire  from  the  wrecks  of  the  Turkish 
empire,  now  tottering  beneath  its  own  weight,  and  which  has  no 
heir  but  the  desert  and  the  dust  of  the  ruins  where  it  will  lie 
buried.  Nothing  would  be  easier  than  to  raise  up  a  new  monu¬ 
ment  on  these  desolate  territories,  and  to  re-open  those  inexhausti¬ 
ble  sources  of  population  which  Mahometanism  has  checked  by  its 
execrable  system.  When  I  say  execrable,  I  do  not  mean  to 
charge  Mahometanism  with  a  brutal  ferocity,  which  is  not  its  na¬ 
ture  ;  I  merely  accuse  it  of  a  culpable  negligence,  an  irreme¬ 
diable  fatalism,  which,  without  destroying,  suffers  every  thing  to 
perish.  The  Turks  are  a  moral  and  well-disposed  people;  their 
religion  is  neither  so  superstitious  nor  so  exclusive  as  we  imagine 
it ;  but  their  resignation — the  abuse  of  their  faith  in  Providence — 
neutralizes  the  faculties  of  man  by  consigning  all  to  God. 

God  does  not  act  for  man,  when  man  is  intrusted  to  act  for 
himself :  he  is  the  spectator  and  the  judge  of  human  conduct.  But 
Mahometanism  arrogates  to  itself  the  prerogative  of  the  Deity  :  it  is 
an  inactive  spectator  of  the  acts  of  God  ;  it  paralyzes  the  energies 
of  man,  and  man  voluntarily  perishes  in  his  inertness.  With  this 
exception,  the  religion  of  Mahomet  may  lay  claim  to  respect.  It 
is  a  philosophic  religion,  which  imposes  on  its  votaries  only  two 
grand  duties — prayer  and  charity.  These  duties  are  indeed  the 

VOL.  II.  5 


86 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


first  principles  of  all  religion,  and  Mahometanism  deduces  from 
them  the  tolerance  which  other  faiths  have  so  cruelly  banished 
from  their  dogmas.  In  this  respect,  the  Mahometans  are  more 
advanced  in  religious  perfection  than  the  disciples  of  some  other 
faiths,  who  insult  and  despise  them.  Islamism  might  be  intro¬ 
duced,  without  effort  or  difficulty,  into  a  system  of  religious  and 
civil  liberty,  and  thus  form  one  of  the  elements  of  a  great  social 
agglomeration  in  Asia.  It  is  in  its  nature  moral,  patient,  resigned, 
charitable,  and  tolerant ;  qualities  which  well  suit  it  for  a  neces¬ 
sary  fusion  in  the  countries  it  occupies,  and  where  it  would  be 
advisable  to  improve,  and  not  exterminate.  It  is  accustomed 
to  subsist  in  peace  and  harmony  with  the  various  forms  of  Chris¬ 
tian  worship ;  to  which  it  allows  free  exercise  even  in  the  bosom 
of  its  holiest  cities,  such  as  Damascus  and  Jerusalem.  It  is 
careless  of  supremacy ;  prayer,  justice,  and  peace  are  all  it  re¬ 
quires.  In  any  system  of  human  civilization,  whether  humane, 
politic,  or  ambitious,  the  religion  of  Mahomet  may  easily  be  al¬ 
lowed  to  occupy  its  place  in  the  mosque — its  place  in  the  sun  or 
in  the  shade. 

Alexander  subjugated  Asia  with  thirty  thousand  Greek  and 
Macedonian  troops.  Ibrahim  has  overthrown  the  Turkish  empire 
with  thirty  or  forty  thousand  Egyptians,  who  knew  only  how  to 
march  and  to  load  their  muskets.  A  European  adventurer  might 
easily  subdue  Ibrahim,  and  make  himself  master  of  Asia,  from 
Smyrna  to  Bassora,  and  from  Cairo  to  Bagdad  ; — advancing  step 
by  step;  taking  the  Maronites  of  the  Libanus  as  the  pivots  of  his 
operations ;  organizing  the  country  in  his  rear  in  proportion  as  he 
might  advance,  and  making  the  Christians  of  the  East  his  agents 
of  government  and  recruiting.  The  Arabs  of  the  Desert  would 
join  him  whenever  he  should  offer  to  pay  them.  They  worship 
money; — their  deities  are  the  sabre  and  gold.  By  humoring 
their  mercenary  disposition,  they  might  be  kept  under  control  until 
their  ultimate  submission  would  become  inevitable.  After  that, 
their  tents  might  be  driven  farther  back  into  the  Desert,  which  is 
their  only  country ;  and  they  might  be  gradually  drawn  into  civ¬ 
ilization,  of  which  they  have  as  yet  had  no  examples  round  them. 

We  rose  with  the  sun,  the  first  rays  of  which  lighted  the  tem¬ 
ples  of  Balbec,  and  gave  to  those  mysterious  ruins  that  appear¬ 
ance  of  eternal  freshness  which  Nature  can,  when  she  pleases, 
confer  even  on  what  Time  has  destroyed.  After  a  hasty  break¬ 
fast,  we  set  off  to  touch  with  our  hands  what  we  had  as  yet  only 
touched  with  our  eyes.  We  advanced  to  the  artificial  hill  to  exa- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


87 


mine  the  different  masses  of  architecture  of  which  it  is  composed. 
We  soon  reached  it  on  the  northern  side,  under  the  shade  of  the 
gigantic  walls  which  in  that  direction  envelope  the  ruins.  A 
beautiful  stream,  overflowing  its  bed  of  granite,  ran  beneath  our 
feet,  and  formed  here  and  there  little  lakes  of  limpid  water,  gurg¬ 
ling  and  foaming  round  the  huge  stones  which  had  fallen  from  the 
Walls,  and  the  sculptures  buried  in  the  bed  of  the  stream. 

We  crossed  the  torrent  of  Balbec  by  the  aid  of  the  bridges 
which  time  has  thrown  over  it,  and  by  a  steep  and  narrow  breach 
we  mounted  to  the  terrace  which  runs  round  the  walls.  At  every 
step  we  took,  at  every  stone  our  hands  touched  and  our  eyes 
measured,  we  involuntarily  uttered  exclamations  of  admiration 
and  surprise.  Every  block  of  stone  composing  this  boundary 
wall  is  at  least  eight  or  ten  feet  in  length,  five  or  six  in  width,  and 
the  same  in  height.  These  blocks,  of  enormous  weight  to  be 
lifted  by  men’s  hands,  lie  uncemented  one  upon  another,  and  al¬ 
most  all  bear  traces  of  Indian  or  Egyptian  sculpture.  At  the 
first  glance,  it  is  obvious  that  these  stones  have  originally  served 
for  some  other  use  than  to  form  a  terrace  or  boundary  wall,  and 
that  they  must  have  been  the  precious  materials  of  primitive  monu¬ 
ments,  which  have  been  made  use  of  to  surround  the  monuments 
of  the  Greek  and  Roman  ages.  Among  the  ancients  it  was,  I 
believe,  an  habitual,  and  even  a  religious  custom,  when  a  sacred 
edifice  was  destroyed  by  war  or  by  time,  or  when  the  advance¬ 
ment  of  art  suggested  its  improvement  or  removal,  to  employ  the 
materials  in  the  accessory  constructions  of  the  restored  monu¬ 
ments.  This  was  done  to  prevent  any  profane  use  of  the  stones 
which  had  been  touched  by  the  shadow  of  the  gods,  and  also,  per¬ 
haps,  from  a  feeling  of  respect  for  past  generations ;  and  that  the 
labor  of  different  ages,  instead  of  being  buried  under  ground, 
might  bear  evidence  of  the  piety  of  man,  and  the  successive  pro¬ 
gress  of  art. 

Thus  it  is  at  the  Parthenon,  where  the  walls  of  the  Acropolis, 
rebuilt  by  Pericles,  contain  the  materials  of  the  temple  of  Minerva. 
Many  modern  travelers  have  been  led  into  error  through  their 
ignorance  of  this  pious  custom  of  the  ancients,  and  have  mistaken 
for  barbarous  structures  of  the  Turks  or  the  Crusaders,  edifices 
which  owed  their  origin  to  the  most  remote  antiquity. 

Several  of  the  stones  of  the  wall  were  twenty  and  thirty  feet 
in  length,  and  seven  or  eight  in  height. 

On  reaching  the  summit  of  the  breach,  we  knew  not  where  to 
fix  our  eyes.  On  every  side,  we  beheld  marble  doors  of  prodi- 


88 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


gious  dimensions,  windows  and  niches  bordered  with  exquisite 
sculpture,  richly  ornamented  arches — fragments  of  cornices,  en¬ 
tablatures,  and  capitals.  The  master  works  of  art,  the  wrecks 
of  ages,  lay  scattered  as  thickly  as  the  grains  of  dust  beneath  our 
feet.  All  was  mystery,  confusion,  inexplicable  wonder.  No 
sooner  had  we  cast  an  admiring  glance  on  one  side,  than  some 
new  prodigy  attracted  us  on  the  others,  Rvery  attempt  we  made 
to  interpret  the  religious  meaning  of  the  monuments  was  imme¬ 
diately  defeated  by  some  newly  discerned  object.  We  fruitlessly 
groped  about  in  this  labyrinth  of  conjecture  : — one  cannot  recon¬ 
struct  in  one’s  fancy  the  sacred  edifices  of  an  age  or  a  people  of 
whose  religion  or  manners  nothing  certain  is  known.  Time  car¬ 
ries  his  secrets  away  with  him,  and  leaves  his  enigmas  as  sports 
for  human  knowledge.  We  speedily  renounced  all  our  attempts 
to  build  any  system  out  of  these  ruins  ;  we  were  content  to  gaze 
and  to  admire,  without  comprehending  any  thing  beyond  the  colos¬ 
sal  power  of  human  genius,  and  the  strength  of  religious  feeling, 
which  had  moved  such  masses  of  stone,  and  wrought  so  many  mas¬ 
terpieces. 

We  were  still  separated  from  the  second  scene  of  the  ruins  by 
some  internal  structures  which  intercepted  our  view  of  the  tem¬ 
ples.  The  spot  which  we  had  now  reached  was  to  all  appearance 
the  abode  of  the  priests,  or  the  site  of  some  private  chapels.  We 
passed  these  monumental  buildings,  which  were  much  richer  than 
the  surrounding  wall,  and  the  second  scene  of  the  ruins  unfolded 
itself  to  our  eyes.  This  was  much  broader,  much  longer,  much 
fuller  of  rich  ornament,  than  the  first  scene  which  we  had  just 
quitted.  It  was  a  vast  platform  of  an  oblong  form,  whose  level 
was  frequently  interrupted  by  fragments  of  more  elevated  pave¬ 
ments,  which  seemed  to  have  belonged  to  temples  entirely  destroy¬ 
ed,  or  to  temples  without  roofs,  where  the  Sun,  which  is  worship¬ 
ped  at  Balbec,  might  see  his  own  altar.  Round  this  platform  is 
ranged  a  series  of  chapels,  decorated  with  niches,  admirably  sculp¬ 
tured  friezes,  cornices,  and  vaulted  arches,  all  displaying  the  most 
finished  workmanship,  but  evidently  belonging  to  a  degenerate 
period  of  art,  and  distinguished  by  that  exuberance  of  ornament 
which  marked  the  decline  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans.  But  this 
impression  can  only  be  felt  by  those  whose  eyes  have  been  previ¬ 
ously  exercised  by  the  contemplation  of  the  pure  monuments  of 
Athens  and  Rome  :  every  other  eye  would  be  fascinated  by  the 
splendor  of  the  forms  and  the  finish  of  the  ornaments.  The  only 
fault  is  too  much  richness :  the  stone  groans  beneath  the  weight 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


89 


of  its  own  luxuriance,  and  the  walls  are  overspread  with  a  lace- 
work  of  marble. 

About  eight  or  ten  of  the  chapels  appear  to  be  in  a  perfect 
state,  for  they  bear  no  traces  of  dilapidation.  They  are  open  to 
the  oblong  platform,  round  the  edge  of  which  they  stand,  and 
where  the  mysteries  of  the  worship  of  Baal  were  probably  per¬ 
formed  in  the  open  air.  I  will  not  attempt  to  describe  the  thou¬ 
sand  objects  of  surprise  and  admiration  which  each  of  these  chapels 
present  to  the  eye  of  the  observer.  I  am  neither  a  sculptor  nor 
an  architect.  I  scarcely  know  the  terms  applied  to  the  different 
portions  of  a  building  :  but  that  universal  language  which  the 
beautiful  in  art  addresses  to  the  eye,  even  of  the  ignorant — which 
the  mysterious  and  the  antique  address  to  the  understanding  and 
the  soul  of  the  philosopher,  I  do  understand  ;  and  I  never  under¬ 
stood  it  so  forcibly  as  in  this  chaos  of  marbles  and  mysteries. 

But  all  this  was  nothing  compared  with  what  we  beheld  shortly 
afterwards.  By  multiplying  in  imagination  the  remains  of  the 
temples  of  Jupiter  Stator  at  Rome,  of  the  Coliseum,  and  of  the 
Parthenon,  some  notion  may  be  formed  of  this  architectural  scene  : 
its  wonders  consisted  in  the  prodigious  accumulation  of  so  many 
richly  executed  monuments  in  a  single  spot,  so  that  the  eye  could 
embrace  them  at  a  single  glance,  in  the  midst  of  a  desert,  and 
above  the  ruins  of  an  almost  unknown  city. 

We  slowly  turned  from  this  spectacle  and  journeyed  towards 
the  south,  where  the  heads  of  the  six  gigantic  columns  I  have 
already  mentioned  rose  like  a  pharos  above  the  horizon  of  the 
ruins.  To  reach  these  columns,  we  had  once  more  to  pass  exter¬ 
nal  boundary  walls,  high  terraces,  pedestals,  and  foundations  of 
altars.  At  length  we  arrived  at  the  feet  of  the  columns.  Silence 
is  the  only  language  of  man  when  what  he  feels  outstrips  the  ordi¬ 
nary  measure  of  his  impressions.  We  stood  in  mute  contempla¬ 
tion  of  these  six  columns,  and  scanning  with  our  eyes  their  diame¬ 
ter,  their  elevation,  and  the  admirable  sculpture  of  their  archi¬ 
traves  and  cornices.  Their  diameter  is  six  feet,  and  their  height 
upwards  of  seventy  feet.  They  are  formed  out  of  only  two  or 
three  blocks,  which  are  so  perfectly  joined  together  that  the  junc¬ 
tion  lines  are  scarcely  discernible.  They  are  composed  of  a  sort 
of  light  yellow  stone,  presenting  a  sort  of  medium  between  the 
polish  of  marble  and  the  deadness  of  tuff.  When  we  saw  them, 
the  sun  lighted  them  only  on  one  side  ;  and  we  sat  down  for  a 
few  moments  in  their  shade.  Large  birds  like  eagles,  scared  by 
the  sound  of  our  footsteps,  fluttered  above  the  capitals  of  the 


90 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


columns,  where  they  have  built  their  nests  ;  and  returning,  perch¬ 
ed  upon  the  acanthus  of  the  cornices,  striking  them  with  their 
beaks,  and  flapping  their  wings  like  living  ornaments  amidst  these 
inanimate  wonders.  These  columns,  which  some  travelers  have 
supposed  to  be  the  remains  of  an  avenue,  one  hundred  and  four 
feet  long,  and  fifty-six  wide,  formerly  leading  to  a  temple,  have,  I 
think,  evidently  been  the  external  ornaments  of  the  same  temple. 

On  an  attentive  examination  of  the  smaller  temple,  which  still 
stands  in  a  complete  state  at  a  little  distance,  it  appears  to  have 
been  built  after  the  same  design.  I  think  it  is  probable  that  on 
the  destruction  of  the  first  building  by  an  earthquake,  the  second 
was  erected  after  the  same  model ;  that  a  portion  of  the  materials 
preserved  from  the  first  temple  were  employed  for  building  the 
second  ;  that  the  proportions  only  were  diminished,  as  being  too 
gigantic  for  a  declining  age  ;  that  the  columns  broken  in  falling 
were  removed,  and  that  those  which  escaped  injury  were  retained 
as  sacred  memorials  of  the  old  monument.  If  these  conjectures 
be  ill-founded,  why  are  there  no  other  remnants  of  large  columns 
round  the  six  which  remain  standing  ?  Every  thing,  on  the  con¬ 
trary,  indicates  that  the  area  surrounding  them  was  empty  and 
unoccupied  by  ruins  at  a  remote  period  ;  and  that,  subsequently, 
a  rich  pavement  formed  around  them  served  for  the  ceremonies  of 
religious  worship. 

Before  us,  to  the  south,  was  another  temple,  standing  on  the 
edge  of  the  platform,  at  the  distance  of  about  forty  paces  from  us. 
This  is  the  most  perfect  and  most  magnificent  monument  in  Bal- 
bec,  and,  1* may  venture  to  add,  in  the  whole  world.  If  we  could 
repair  one  or  two  columns  of  the  peristyle,  which  have  rolled 
down  on  the  side  of  the  platform,  with  their  heads  still  resting 
against  the  walls  of  the  temple  ;  restore  to  their  places  some 
of  the  enormous  vaulted  arches  which  have  fallen  from  the  roof 
into  the  vestibule  ;  raise  up  one  or  two  sculptured  blocks  of  the 
inner  door ;  and  if  the  altar,  recomposed  out  of  the  fragments 
scattered  over  the  ground,  could  resume  its  form  and  place, — we 
might  recall  the  gods  and  the  priests,  and  the  people  would  behold 
their  temple  as  complete  and  as  brilliant  as  when  it  received  its 
finishing  touch  from  the  hand  of  the  architect.  The  proportions 
of  this  temple  are  smaller  than  those  which  are  indicated  by  the 
six  colossal  columns.  It  is  surrounded  by  a  portico,  supported  by 
Corinthian  columns,  each  of  which  is  about  five  feet  in  diameter, 
and  about  forty-five  feet  in  height.  The  columns  are  each  com¬ 
posed  of  three  blocks  of  stone  ;  they  are  nine  feet  apart  from  one 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


91 


another,  and  an  equal  distance  from  the  interior  wall  of  the  tem¬ 
ple.  Above  the  capitals  of  these  colums  are  a  rich  architrave 
and  an  admirably  sculptured  cornice.  The  roof  of  this  peristyle 
is  formed  of  large  concave  blocks  of  stone,  cut  with  the  chisel  in 
vaulted  arches,  each  of  which  is  adorned'  with  the  figure  of  a  god, 
a  goddess,  or  a  hero  :  among  them  we  recognized  a  Ganymede 
carried  off  by  the  eagle  of  Jupiter.  Some  of  these  blocks  have 
fallen  to  the  ground,  and  are  lying  at  the  feet  of  the  columns. 
We  measured  them,  and  they  were  sixteen  feet  wide  and  nearly 
five  feet  thick.  These  may  be  called  the  tiles  of  the  temple. 
The  inner  door  of  the  temple,  formed  of  equally  large  blocks  of 
stone,  is  twenty-two  feet  wide.  We  could  not  measure  its  height, 
because  other  blocks  of  stone  had  fallen  near  it  and  half  covered 
it.  The  appearance  of  the  sculptured  stones  which  form  the  face 
of  this,  and  its  disproportion  to  the  other  parts  of  the  edifice,  led 
me  to  suspect  that  it  is  the  door  of  the  ruined  grand  temple,  and 
that  it  has  been  affixed  to  this.  The  sculptures  which  adorn  it 
are,  in  my  opinion,  older  than  the  age  of  Antoninus,  and  in  a 
style  infinitely  less  pure.  An  eagle,  holding  a  caduceus  in  his 
claws,  spreads  his  wings  over  the  opening ;  from  his  beak  escape 
festoons  of  ribbons  and  chains,  which  are  supported  at  their  ex¬ 
tremities  by  two  figures  of  Fame.  The  interior  of  the  monument 
is  decorated  with  pillars  and  niches  of  the  richest  and  most  florid 
sculpture,  some  of  the  broken  fragments  of  which  we  carried 
away.  Several  of  the  niches  were  quite  perfect,  and  looked  as 
though  they  had  just  received  the  finishing  touch  from  the  hand 
of  the  sculptor. 

At  a  little  distance  from  the  entrance  to  the  temple,  we  found 
some  immense  openings  and  subterraneous  staircases,  which  led 
us  down  to  lower  buildings,  the  destinations  of  which  we  were 
unable  to  guess.  Here,  too,  all  was  on  a  vast  and  magnificent 
scale.  They  were  probably  the  abodes  of  the  pontiffs,  the  col¬ 
leges  of  the  priests,  the  halls  of  initiation — perhaps  also  royal  dwell¬ 
ings.  They  were  lighted  from  the  roofs,  or  from  the  sides  of  the 
platform  under  which  they  were  built.  Fearing  lest  we  might 
lose  ourselves  in  these  labyrinths,  we  entered  only  a  small  por¬ 
tion  of  them — they  seemed  to  extend  over  the  whole  of  the  hill. 
The  temple  I  have  just  described  stands  at  the  southwestern  ex¬ 
tremity  of  the  hill  of  Balbec,  and  forms  the  angle  of  the  platform. 

On  leaving  the  peristyle,  we  found  ourselves  on  the  very  edge 
of  the  precipice.  VVe  could  measure  the  Cyclopean  stones  which 
form  the  pedestal  of  this  group  of  monuments.  This  pedestal  is 


92 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND, 


thirty  feet  above  the  level  of  the  plain  of  Balbee.  It  is  huilt  of 
stones  of  such  prodigious  dimensions,  that  if  the  descriptions  of 
them  were  not  given  by  travelers  worthy  of  credit,  they  would  be 
rejected  as  false  and  improbable.  The  Arabs,  wno  are  daily  eye¬ 
witnesses  to  the  existence  of  these  wonders,  attribute  them,  not  to 
the  power  of  man,  but  to  that  of  genii  and  other  supernatural  be¬ 
ings.  When  it  is  considered  that  some  of  these  blocks  of  hewn 
granite  are  twenty  feet  long,  fifteen  or  sixteen  wide,  and  of  in¬ 
conceivable  thickness  ;  when  it  is  borne  in  mind  that  these  huge 
masses  are  raised  one  above  another  to  the  height  of  twenty  or 
thirty  feet  from  the  ground — that  they  have  been  brought  from 
distant  quraries,  and  raised  to  so  vast  a  height  to  form  the  pave¬ 
ment  of  the  temples- — the  mind  is  overwhelmed  by  such  an  exam¬ 
ple  of  human  power.  The  science  of  modern  times  cannot  help 
us  to  explain  it,  and  we  cannot  be  surprised  that  it  is  referred  to 
the  supernatural. 

These  wonders  are  evidently  not  of  the  date  of  the  temples — 
they  were  mysieries  to  the  ancients,  as  they  are  to  us.  They 
belong  to  an  unknown  age,  and  are  perhaps  antediluvian.  It  is 
possible,  that  they  may  have  supported  many  temples,  consecrated 
to  successive  and  various  forms  of  religious  worship.  On  the 
site  of  the  ruins  of  Balbee,  tbe  eye  at  once  recognizes  five  or  six 
generations  of  monuments,  belonging  to  different  ages.  Some 
travelers  and  Arab  writers  attribute  these  primitive  structures  to 
Solomon,  who  lived  three  thousand  years  before  our  time.  He,  it 
is  said,  built  Tadmor  and  Balbee  in  the  Desert.  The  history  of 
Solomon  fills  the  imagination  of  the  Orientals ;  but  the  supposi¬ 
tion,  as  far  as  concerns  the  gigantic  structures  of  Heliopolis,  is  by 
no  means  probable.  How  could  a  king  of  Israel,  who  possessed 
not  even  a  seaport  ten  leagues  from  these  mountains ;  who  was 
obliged  to  borrow  the  ships  of  Hiram  king  of  Tyre,  to  bring  him 
the  cedars  of  Lebanon — how  could  he  have  extended  his  dominion 
beyond  Damascus  and  as  far  as  Balbee  ?  Is  it  likely,  that  a 
prince,  who,  when  he  wished  to  raise  in  his  capital,  the  Temple 
of  temples,  the  house  of  the  only  God,  employed  merely  fragile 
materials,  which  left  no  durable  trace  behind  them,  could  have 
built,  at  the  distance  of  a  hundred  leagues  from  his  own  territo¬ 
ries,  in  the  midst  of  unknown  deserts,  monuments  composed  of 
imperishable  materials?  Would  he  not  rather  have  employed 
his  power  and  his  wealth  in  Jerusalem  ?  And  what  is  there  in 
Jerusalem  which  affords  any  trace  of  monuments  like  those  at 
Balbee  ?  Nothing.  These  temples  therefore  cannot  be  attributed 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


93 


to  Solomon.  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  these  gigantic  masses 
of  stone  were  put  together  either  by  the  early  races  of  men  who 
in  all  primitive  histories  are  denominated  giants,  or  by  some  race 
of  men  who  lived  before  the  deluge. 

It  is  alleged,  that  not  far  from  Balbec,  in  a  valley  of  the  Anti- 
Libanus,  human  bones  of  immense  magnitude  have  been  discovered. 
This  fact  is  so  confidently  believed  among  the  neighboring  Arabs, 
that  Mr.  Farren,  the  English  consul  in  Syria,  a  man  of  extensive 
information,  proposes  immediately  to  visit  these  mysterious  sepul¬ 
chres.  Oriental  traditions,  and  the  monument  erected  on  what  is 
called  the  tomb  of  Noah,  mark  this  spot  as  the  dwelling-place  of 
the  patriarch.  The  first  generation  of  his  descendants  probably 
long  retained  the  gigantic  stature  and  the  strength  assigned  to  man 
before  the  total  or  partial  submersion  of  the  globe.  These  mon¬ 
uments  may  be  their  work.  Even  supposing  that  the  human  race 
had  never  exceeded  its  present  proportions,  it  is  possible  that  the 
proportions  of  human  intelligence  may  have  undergone  a  change. 
Who  can  say  but  that  primitive  intelligence  might  have  invented 
mechanical  powers  capable  of  moving,  like  grains  of  dust,  masses 
which  an  army  of  a  hundred  thousand  men  could  now  scarcely 
shake  !  Be  this  as  it  may,  it  is  certain  that  some  of  the  stones  at 
Balbec,  which  are  sixty-two  feet  long,  twenty  broad,  and  fifteen 
thick,  are  the  most  prodigious  masses  which  have  ever  been 
moved  by  human  power.  The  largest  stones  in  the  Pyramids  of 
Egypt  do  not  exceed  eighteen  feet ;  and  these  are  only  exception¬ 
al  blocks,  placed  for  the  sake  of  peculiar  solidity  in  some  parts 
of  the  edifice. 

On  turning  the  northern  angle  of  the  platform,  we  found  the 
supporting  walls  in  a  beautiful  state  of  preservation  ;  but  the  bulk 
of  the  stones  of  which  they  are  built  is  less  astonishing :  these 
stones  are  on  the  average  from  twenty  to  thirty  feet  long,  and 
from  eight  to  ten  feet  wide.  The  walls,  which  are  more  ancient 
than  the  upper  temples,  are  covered  with  a  gray  tint,  and  are  here 
and  there  pierced  with  holes  at  their  junction  angles.  In  these 
openings  swallows  have  built  their  nests,  and  tufts  of  creeping 
shrubs  and  flowers  are  hanging  from  them.  The  grave  and  som¬ 
bre  color  of  the  stones  of  the  base  contrasts  with  the  bright  yellow 
color  of  the  walls  of  the  temples  and  the  rows  of  columns  on  the 
summit.  At  sunset,  when  the  rays  play  among  the  pillars  and 
ripple  in  waves  of  fire  between  the  volutes  and  the  acanthuses  of 
the  capitals,  the  temples  glitter  as  if  they  were  sculptured  out  of 
pure  gold  and  were  standing  on  pedestals  of  bronze.  We  de- 
vol.  II.  5* 


94 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


scended  by  a  breach  formed  in  the  southern  angle  of  the  platfDrm. 
There  some  of  the  columns  of  the  smaller  temple  have  rolled  with 
their  architrave  into  the  torrent  which  runs  parallel  with  the  Cy¬ 
clopean  walls.  The  enormous  fragments  of  columns  grouped  at 
hazard  in  the  bed  of  the  torrent,  and  on  the  rapid  slope  of  the 
fosse,  will  doubtless  remain  eternally  where  the  hand  of  time  has 
scattered  them.  Some  walnut  and  other  trees  have  taken  root 
among  the  blocks  of  stone,  which  they  cover  by  their  branches 
and  entwine  with  their  roots.  The  largest  trees  resemble  mere 
shrubs  beside  these  shafts  of  columns,  twenty  feet  in  circumfer¬ 
ence,  and  fragments  of  acanthus,  of  which  one  alone  fills  up  half 
the  bed  of  the  torrent, 

Not  far  from  thence,  on  the  northern  side  of  the  platform,  a 
cavity  opened  before  us  ;  we  descended  it.  The  external  light 
which  entered  from  the  two  extremities  enabled  us  to  see  our  way 
sufficiently  well.  We  proceeded  along  its  whole  length,  which 
measures  five  hundred  feet :  it  extends  beneath  the  whole  ruins 
of  the  temples.  It  is  thirty  feet  high,  and  the  floor  and  vaulted 
roof  are  formed  of  blocks  of  stone,  the  magnitude  of  which  sur¬ 
prised  us,  even  after  those  we  had  just  beheld.  They  are  blocks 
of  tuff,  cut  with  the  chisel,  and  are  of  unequal  sizes;  but  the 
largest  is  ten  or  twenty  feet  long.  The  roof  is  vaulted,  and  the 
stones  are  joined  without  cement.  We  could  form  no  conjecture 
as  to  the  purpose  to  which  this  place  had  been  destined.  At  the 
western  extremity  this  vault  has  a  branch  still  more  elevated  and 
extensive :  it  runs  under  the  platform  of  the  smaller  temples 
which  we  first  visited.  Here  we  again  found  ourselves  in  the 
light  of  day,  and  beheld  the  torrent  flowing  amidst  innumerable 
fragments  of  architecture,  and  fine  walnut  trees  growing  in  the 
dust  of  the  marbles. 

The  other  ancient  edifices  of  Balbec  lay  scattered  before  us 
in  the  plain  ;  but  nothing  had  power  to  interest  us  after  what  we 
had  seen.  We  casta  passing  and  superficial  glance  at  four  tem¬ 
ples  which  would  be  thought  wonders  in  Rome,  but  which  here 
resemble  the  works  of  dwarfs.  Two  of  these  temples  are  of  an 
octagonal  form,  and  are  very  elegantly  ornamented  ;  and  the 
other  two  are  square,  with  peristyles  of  Egyptian  granite  and 
porphyry  :  they  are,  I  think,  of  Roman  origin.  One  of  them 
served  as  a  church  in  the  early  ages  of  Christianity,  and  symbols 
of  Christian  worship  are  still  discernible  :  it  is  now  unroofed  and 
in  ruins.  The  Arabs  despoil  it  whenever  they  want  a  stone  to 
prop  up  their  dwellings,  or  a  trough  to  water  their  camels. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


95 


A  messenger  from  the  Emir  of  the  Arabs  of  Balbec  came  in 
search  of  us,  and  met  us  here.  The  prince  had  sent  him  to  con¬ 
gratulate  us  on  our  arrival,  and  to  request  our  company  at  a 
djerid,  a  sort  of  tournament  which  he  intended  to  give  in  honor 
of  our  presence  next  day  in  the  plain  below  the  temples.  We 
returned  thanks  and  accepted  the  invitation ;  and  I  sent  my  dra¬ 
goman,  attended  by  some  of  my  Janissaries,  to  make  a  visit  from 
me  to  the  Emir. 

We  returned  to  the  bishop’s  residence,  with  the  intention  of 
resting  for  the  remainder  of  the  day;  but  no  sooner  had  we  par¬ 
taken  of  a  little  cake  and  the  dish  of  mutton  and  rice  prepared 
for  us  by  our  moukres,  than  we  again  set  out  to  wander  without 
a  guide  round  the  hill  of  the  ruins,  or  in  the  temples  which  we 
had  seen  in  the  morning.  We  each  of  us  fixed  our  attention  on 
some  object  or  point  of  view  which  appeared  to  us  peculiarly  in¬ 
teresting,  and  called  our  companions  to  come  and  look  at  it  too  : 
but  we  could  not  turn  to  any  new  object  without  losing  sight  of 
another  which  appeared  even  more  attractive,  and  at  length  we 
all  confined  ourselves  to  the  admiration  of  our  own  particular 
discoveries.  The  shades  of  evening,  which  slowly  descended  the 
mountains  of  Balbec,  and  obscured  one  by  one  the  columns  and 
the  ruins,  imparted  an  additional  air  of  mystery  to  the  picturesque 
and  magical  effect  of  these  wonderful  works  of  man  and  time. 
We  felt  the  full  insignificance  of  human  nature,  and  while  con¬ 
templating  the  mass  and  eternity  of  these  monuments,  we  com¬ 
pared  ourselves  to  the  swallows  which  build  their  nests  for  a 
season  in  the  interstices  of  these  stones,  without  knowing  by 
whom  or  for  what  purpose  they  have  been  collected  together. 
The  power  which  moved  these  masses  and  accumulated  these 
blocks  is  unknown  to  us  ;  the  dust  of  the  marble  which  we  trod 
under  our  feet  knows  more  than  we  do,  but  can  tell  us  nothing  ; 
and  in  a  few  centuries  to  come,  the  generations  who  may  in  their 
turn  visit  the  wrecks  of  our  monuments  now  existing,  will  ask, 
without  being  able  to  answer,  why  we  labored  to  build  and  carve. 
The  works  of  man  are  more  durable  than  his  thoughts  ; — move¬ 
ment  is  the  law  of  the  human  mind  ; — the  definitive  is  the  dream 
of  man’s  vanity  and  ignorance.  God  is  an  object  which  inces¬ 
santly  recedes  from  us  as  we  endeavor  to  approach  him.  We 
are  continually  advancing,  but  we  never  arrive.  The  Deity, 
whose  divine  figure  man  seeks  to  embody  in  his  imagination  and 
to  enshrine  in  his  temples,  continually  enlarges  and  exceeds  the 
narrow  boundaries  of  our  minds  and  our  edifices,  leaves  the  tern- 


96 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


pies  and  the  altars  to  crumble  into  dust,  and  summons  man  to 
seek  him  where  he  is  most  plainly  manifested,  viz. — in  intelli¬ 
gence,  in  virtue,  in  nature,  and  in  eternity. 

Same  date,  Evening. 

I  have  sometimes  thought  how  happy  we  should  be  if  we  had 
wings  to  hover  over  past  ages,  to  look  down  without  vertigo  on 
those  wonderful  monuments,  and  sound  the  depths  of  human 
thought  and  destiny  ;  to  scan  with  our  eyes  the  course  of  the 
human  mind,  advancing  by  degrees  through  the  twilight  of  suc¬ 
cessive  systems  of  philosophy,  religion,  and  legislation  ; — to  sail 
like  the  navigator  over  seas  without  visible  shores,  to  guess 
at  what  point  of  the  circle  of  ages  we  ourselves  live  ;  and  to 
what  manifestation  of  truth  and  divinity  God  destines  the  genera¬ 
tion  of  which  we  form  a  part. 

Balbec,  March  29th,  Midnight. 

Yesterday  evening  I  went  alone  and  visited  the  hill  of  the 
temples,  to  reflect,  to  weep,  and  to  pray.  Heaven  knows  how 
much  I  weep  and  shall  weep  as  long  as  a  recollection  and  a  tear 
remain  to  me.  After  praying  for  myself,  and  for  those  who  are 
part  of  myself,  I  prayed  for  all  mankind.  The  vast  expanse  of 
ruins  on  which  I  looked  down  inspired  me  with  feelings  so  strong, 
that  I  almost  involuntarily  gave  vent  to  them  in  verse,  which  is 
the  language  in  which  I  naturally  express  myself  whenever  I  am 
under  the  influence  of  any  powerful  impression. 

1  noted  down  my  ideas  this  morning  on  the  same  spot  and  on 
the  same  stone  on  which  they  were  conceived  last  night. 

VERSES  WRITTEN  AT  BALBEC. 

Mysterkras  Deserts !  Deserts  whose  large  hills 
Are  bones  of  cities  with  a  perished  name  ; 

Vast  block  by  ruin  in  its  torrent  swept, 

Huge  bed  of  life  whose  waves  have  ceased  to  flow. 

Ye  temples,  which  for  your  foundations  rent 
The  marble  strength  of  mountains  like  a  tree  j 


VERS  ECRIT  A  BALBEC. 

Mysterieux  Deserts !  dont  les  larges  collines 
Sont  les  os  des  cites  dont  le  nom  a  peri  ; 

Vastes  blocs  qu’a  roules  le  torrent  des  ruines  ; 
Immense  lit  d’un  peuple  on  la  vague  a  tari  • 
Temples  qui,  pour  porter  vos  fondemens  de  marbre, 
Avez  ddracine  les  grands  monts  comme  un  arbre  ; 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


97 


Gulfs  where  whole  rivers  roll ; — ye  columns  high, 
Where  my  eye  vainly  seeks  to  find  a  way, 

And  where  the  moon  is  lost  as  among  clouds  ; 

Whose  capitals  I  mingle  as  I  gaze  ; — 

On  the  globe’s  shell,  enormous  characters — 

To  trace  you  with  his  hand,  to  sound  your  depths, 

A  man  has  wandered  from  the  distant  West. 

The  path  which  o’er  the  deep  his  ship  has  found. 

An  hundred  times  its  rolling  sky  has  spread  ; 

Mid  gulfs  of  the  abyss  his  life  he  flung  ; 

His  feet  are  worn  upon  the  mountain’s  height : 

The  sun  has  burnt  the  canvas  of  his  tent  ; 

His  friends,  his  brothers,  wasted  ’neath  the  toil  ; 

His  dog  uncertain,  if  he  e’er  returns, 

Will  recognize  no  more  his  hand  nor  voice. 

He  has  let  fall,  and  lost  upon  the  way 

His  soul’s  day  star — the  child  which  ’neath  yon  vault 

Shed  round  him  light  and  immortality. 

He’ll  leave  nor  memory  nor  posterity. — 

Now  seated  lonely  on  some  ruin  vast 
He  only  hears  the  mocking  wind  pass  by. 

A  weight  bows  down  his  brow,  and  chains  his  breath — 
He  has  nor  thought — nor  heart ! 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 


Gouffres  ou  rouleraient  des  fleuves  tout  entiers  ; 
Colonnes  ou  mon  ceil  cherche  en  vain  des  sentiers  ; 

De  piliers  et  d’arceaux  profondes  avenues, 

Ou  lu  lune  s’egare  ainsi  qu’au  sein  des  nues  ; 
Chapiteaux  que  mon  ceil  mele  en  les  regardant : 

Sur  l’ecorce  du  globe  immenses  caracteres, 

Pour  vous  toucher  du  doigt,  pour  sonder  vos  mysteres, 
Un  homme  est  venu  d’Occident ! 

La  route,  sur  les  flots,  que  sa  nef  a  suivie, 

A  deplie  cent  fois  ses  roulans  horizons  ; 

Aux  gouffres  de  l’abime  il  a  jete  sa  vie  ; 

Ses  pieds  se  sont  uses  sur  les  pointes  des  monts  ; 

Les  soleils  ont  brule  la  toile  de  sa  tente  ; 

Ses  freres,  ses  amis  ont  seche  dans  l’attente  ; 

Et  s’il  revient  jamais,  son  chien  meme  incertain 
Ne  reconnaitra  plus  ni  sa  voix  ni  sa  main  ; 

II  a  laissd  tomber  et  perdu  dans  la  route 
L’etoiie  de  son  ceil,  l’enfant  qui  sous  sa  route 
Repandait  la  lumidre  et  l’immortalite  : 

II  mourra  sans  mdmoire  et  sans  posterite  ! 

Et  maintenant  assis  sur  la  vaste  ruine, 

II  n'entend  que  le  veut  qui  rend  un  son  moqueur ; 

Un  poids  courbe  son  front,  dcrase  sa  poitrine  : 

Plus  de  pensde  et  plus  de  cceur ! 
»#*##**« 


98 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


The  same  date. 

I  had  crossed  the  summits  of  the  Sannin,  covered  with  eternal 
snow,  and  had  re-descended  from  the  Libanus,  crowned  with  its 
diadem  of  cedars,  into  the  bare  and  sterile  desert  of  Heliopolis, — 
thus  bringing  to  a  close  a  long  and  fatiguing  day’s  journey.  At 
the  still  distant  horizon  before  us,  on  the  last  ridges  of  the  black 
mountains  of  the  Anti-Libanus,  an  immense  group  of  yellow  ruins, 
gilded  by  the  setting  sun,  stood  out  from  the  shade  of  the  moun¬ 
tains,  and  was  reflected  by  the  rays  of  the  evening.  Our  guides, 
pointing  to  the  ruins,  exclaimed,  Balbec  !  Bailee  !  It  was,  in 
truth,  the  wonder  of  the  desert,  the  fabulous  Balbec,  which  arose 
glittering  from  its  unknown  sepulchre,  to  tell  us  of  ages  past,  of 
which  history  retains  no  memorial.  We  advanced  slowly  on  our 
wearied  horses — our  eyes  fixed  on  the  gigantic  walls — the  daz¬ 
zling  and  colossal  columns,  which  appeared  to  enlarge  as  we  ap¬ 
proached  them.  Profound  silence  reigned  throughout  the  whole 
caravan  ;  every  one  being  apparently  apprehensive  lest  he  might 
destroy,  by  giving  utterance  to  his  feelings,  some  of  the  impres¬ 
sions  which  the  scene  produced.  Even  the  Arabs  were  silent, 
and  appeared  to  be  absorbed  in  deep  and  serious  reflection,  on 
contemplating  a  spectacle  which  leveled  all  reflections.  At  length 
we  reached  the  first  fragments  of  pillars,  the  first  blocks  of  mar¬ 
ble,  which  had  been  cast  by  earthquakes  to  the  distance  of  more 
than  a  mile  from  the  monuments  themselves,  like  dry  leaves  scat¬ 
tered  by  the  hurricane  far  away  from  the  tree  to  which  they  be¬ 
long.  Deep  and  large  quarries,  dug  into  the  black  sides  of  the 
Anti-Libanus,  and  appearing  like  natural  defiles,  already  yawned 
beneath  our  horses’  feet.  These  vast  basins  of  stone,  the  sides  of 
which  retain  the  deep  traces  of  the  instruments  employed  in  hew¬ 
ing  the  mountains,  still  contain  gigantic  blocks,  some  partially  de¬ 
tached,  others  completely  separated,  and  cut  into  squares,  as  if 
only  awaiting  the  carriages  or  the  sinews  of  a  race  of  giants  for 
their  removal.  One  of  these  Balbec  blocks  measured  sixty-two 
feet  in  length,  twenty-four  in  breadth,  and  sixteen  in  thickness. 
One  of  our  Arabs,  dismounting,  slipped  down  into  the  quarry,  and 
climbing  up  this  block  by  aid  of  furrows  made  by  the  tools,  and 
holding  by  the  moss  which  had  taken  root  in  different  parts,  he 
succeeded  in  gaining  its  top,  where  he  ran  about  uttering  wild 
exclamations.  The  hugeness  of  the  block  of  stone  seemed  to  an¬ 
nihilate  the  man.  He  shrunk  to  nothing  in  comparison  to  the 
work  of  his  fellow-man.  It  would  require  the  united  strength  of 
sixty  thousand  men  of  our  time  to  raise  this  single  stone.  But  the 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


99 


quarries  of  Balbec  contain  others  of  still  greater  dimensions, 
standing  twenty-five  or  thirty  feet  above  the  ground.  These  were 
destined  to  support  colonnades  of  corresponding  weight  and  mag¬ 
nitude. 

We  pursued  our  journey,  having  the  desert  on  our  left,  and 
the  undulations  of  the  Anti-Libanus  on  our  right.  We  crossed 
some  small  plains  cultivated  by  Arabian  shepherds,  and  the  bed 
of  a  considerable  torrent,  which  meanders  among  the  ruins,  and 
on  whose  banks  were  some  fine  nut  trees.  Now  and  then  the 
Acropolis,  or  the  artificial  hill  on  which  are  heaped  the  immense 
monuments  of  the  Heliopolis,  displayed  itself  to  our  view  through 
the  branches,  and  above  the  tall  tops  of  the  trees.  At  length  we 
discovered  it  entire,  and  all  the  caravans,  as  if  by  an  electric 
instinct,  halted.  It  is  beyond  the  power  of  pen  or  pencil  to  de¬ 
scribe  the  impression  which  this  spectacle  produces  on  the  mind 
as  well  as  on  the  sight.  Under  our  very  feet,  in  the  bed  of  the 
torrent,  around  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  were  scattered  blocks  of 
red  and  gray  granite,  veined  porphyry,  white  marble,  and  yellow 
stone  as  bright  as  Parian  marble ;  truncated  columns,  richly 
wrought  capitals,  architraves,  volutes,  cornices,  entablatures,  and 
pedestals ;  while  portions  of  figures  and  whole  statues,  seemingly 
animated  with  life,  lay  around  in  confused  masses,  like  the  lava 
of  some  volcano  which  had  vomited  forth  the  reliques  of  a  mighty 
empire.  Scarcely  a  path  was  left  for  us  through  these  fragments 
of  art,  and  at  every  step  the  hoofs  of  our  horses  grazed  the  rich 
acanthus  of  some  cornice,  or  the  polished  bosom  of  some  female 
statue.  The  waters  of  the  river  of  Balbec  made  their  way  through 
these  masses,  and  laved  with  their  murmuring  foam  the  marble 
fragments  which  impeded  our  advance. 

Beyond  these  masses,  which  may  be  truly  called  marble 
downs,  rises  the  hill  of  Balbec,  an  elevation  a  thousand  feet  long, 
and  seven  hundred  broad,  entirely  the  work  of  human  hands,  and 
built  of  freestone,  some  blocks  of  which  measured  from  fifty  to 
sixty  feet  long,  and  from  fifteen  to  sixteen  high,  but  the  average 
from  fifteen  to  thirty.  This  mound  of  sculptured  granite  pre¬ 
sented  its  eastern  side  to  us,  with  its  deep  base  and  its  superfices 
of  immeasurable  dimensions.  Three  blocks  of  granite  alone  pre¬ 
sent  a  surface  of  nearly  four  thousand  feet.  In  the  expansive 
hollows  of  the  subterrananeous  vaults,  the  river  ingulfs  itself,  and 
the  wind  rushing  in  with  the  water,  produces  a  noise  like  the  dis¬ 
tant  peals  of  cathedral-bells.  Above  this  immense  eminence  we 
descried  the  tops  of  the  great  temples  relieved  from  an  horizon 


100 


A  PILGrRIMAG-E  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


alternately  azure,  red  and  gold  color.  Some  of  these  deserted 
monuments  appear  intact,  and  as  if  fresh  from  the  hands  of  the 
artist,  whilst  others  were  merely  fragments,  isolated  columns,  large 
portions  of  inclining  walls  and  dismantled  pediments.  The  eye 
is  absolutely  bewildered  in  surveying  the  brilliant  avenues  of  the 
colonnades  of  the  different  temples ;  and  the  horizon  rising  above 
them  prevented  us  from  discerning  the  point  where  this  world  of 
architecture  terminated.  The  six  gigantic  columns  of  the  grand 
temple,  still  majestically  supporting  their  rich  and  colossal  entab¬ 
lature,  tower  over  all  the  rest,  and  their  terminations  are  lost  in 
the  azure  sky,  as  if  the  erection  were  an  aerial  altar  raised  by 
giants  for  their  sacrifices. 

We  stopped  but  a  few  minutes  to  examine  the  objects  which 
we  had  reached  after  our  perilous  and  long  journey,  and,  certain 
of  enjoying  on  the  morrow  a  spectacle  which  could  not  be  im¬ 
aged  even  in  dreams,  we  resumed  our  course.  The  day  was 
drawing  in,  and  it  was  necessary  to  seek  some  place  of  shelter, 
either  under  a  tent  or  beneath  some  of  the  arches  of  the  ruins, 
where  we  might  pass  the  night  and  repose  our  wearied  limbs  after 
a  journey  of  fourteen  hours.  Leaving  on  our  left  the  mountains 
of  ruins  and  the  immense  plain  blanched  with  marble  fragments, 
and  having  crossed  several  meadows  in  which  goats  and  camels 
were  grazing,  we  directed  our  steps  towards  some  smoke  which 
we  perceived  curling  above  a  group  of  ruins,  intermixed  with 
Arab  huts.  The  ground  was  unequal  and  hilly,  and  resound¬ 
ed  under  our  horses’  hoofs  as  if  the  vaults  we  passed  over 
would  open  beneath  our  feet.  We  arrived  at  length  at  the  door 
of  a  little  hut,  half  hidden  by  fragments  of  mouldering  marble, 
and  the  door  and  straight  windows  of  which,  though  without  either 
glass  or  shutters,  were  formed  of  marble  and  porphyry  badly 
joined  by  cement.  A  small  stone  ogive  projected  one  or  two  feet 
above  the  platform  which  served  as  a  roof  to  this  building,  and  a 
small  steeple,  similar  to  what  is  seen  in  pictures  of  hermits’  grot¬ 
toes,  was  tottering  with  every  breath  of  wind.  This  was  the  epis¬ 
copal  palace  of  the  Arab  bishop  of  Balbec,  who  tended  in  this 
desert  a  small  flock  of  twelve  or  thirteen  Christian  families  of 
the  Greek  faith,  surrounded  by  the  deserts  and  the  savage  tribe 
of  the  independent  Arabs  of  Bka.  Hitherto  we  had  not  seen  a 
single  living  thing/in  this  solitude,  except  the  jackals  hopping 
about  among  the  columns  of  the  great  temple,  and  some  small 
swallows  with  rings  of  glossy  red  plumage  round  their  necks, 
who  fringed  like  ornaments  of  Oriental  architecture,  the  cornices 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


101 


of  the  platform.  The  bishop,  roused  by  the  noise  of  our  caravan, 
appeared  forthwith,  and  bowing  upon  the  threshold  proffered  his 
hospitality.  He  was  a  fine  old  man,  with  hair  and  beard  of  silver, 
a  grave  and  benevolent  cast  of  features,  and  a  sweet  and  well 
modulated  voice.  He  was  the  perfect  image  of  a  priest  in  poetry 
or  romance  ;  and  his  aspect,  which  denoted  peace,  resignation 
and  charity,  was  well  suited  to  this  solemn  scene  of  ruins  and 
meditation.  He  led  us  into  a  small  inner  court,  adorned  with 
sculpture  and  fragments  of  antique  mosaics  and  vases  ;  and  ac¬ 
cording  to  the  Eastern  custom,  he  consigned  to  us  the  use  of  his 
house,  which  consisted  of  two  small  rooms.  Whilst  some  of  our 
Arabs  fixed  the  iron  stakes  round  the  house  and  fastened  to  them 
our  horses’  legs,  and  others  were  kindling  fires  in  the  yard  to 
prepare  our  pilau  and  cook  our  barley  cakes,  we  went  out  to  take 
a  second  view  of  the  monuments.  The  great  temples  rose  before 
us  like  statues  from  their  pedestals;  the  last  pale  rays  of  the  set¬ 
ting  sun,  slowly  retired  from  column  to  column,  like  the  glim¬ 
merings  of  the  lamp  which  the  priest  bears  into  the  recesses  of 
the  sanctuary.  The  shadows  of  the  porticoes,  pillars,  colonnades 
and  altars,  were  flitting  over  the  vast  forest  of  stone,  and  insensi¬ 
bly  superseding  the  brilliant  white  of  the  marble  and  tuff  on  the 
Acropolis.  Further  on  in  the  plain  appeared  an  ocean  of  ruins 
terminated  only  with  the  horizon.  It  might  be  likened  to  waves 
of  stone  breaking  upon  some  rocky  shore,  and  covering  an  im¬ 
mense  plain  with  their  white  foam.  Above  this  sea  of  ruins  no 
object  rose,  and  the  shades  of  night  which  were  descending  from 
the  gray  summits  of  a  chain  of  mountains,  successively  spread 
over  the  whole  scene.  We  lingered  a  short  time  in  silent  con¬ 
templation  of  this  sublime  spectacle,  and  then  returned  to  the 
court  of  the  bishop’s  house,  which  was  now  illuminated  by  the  fire 
of  the  Arabs. 

Seated  upon  some  fragments  of  cornices  and  capitals  which 
served  us  for  benches,  we  quickly  despatched  the  simple  repast 
of  travelers  in  the  desert,  and  for  some  time  before  retiring  to 
rest,  we  conversed  together  about  the  grand  spectacle  we  had  just 
seen.  The  fires  had  died  out,  but  the  full  moon  had  risen  and 
illuminated  the  clear  canopy  of  heaven,  penetrating  through  the 
crevices  of  a  large  white  stone  wall,  and  the  open  work  of  an 
arabesque  window,  which  was  on  that  side  of  the  court  next  the 
desert.  Our  conversation  gradually  ceased,  and  we  became  ab¬ 
sorbed  in  meditation.  What  reflections  occurred  to  our  minds  at 
that  time,  in  that  place,  so  far  removed  from  the  living  world  ! — 


102 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


in  that  world  of  the  dead,  in  the  presence  of  so  many  evidences  of 
past  and  unknown  ages ;  evidences  which  overturn  the  petty 
theories  of  human  history  and  philosophy!  What  then  was  stir¬ 
ring  in  our  minds,  or  in  our  hearts  in  reference  to  our  system, 
our  ideas,  and  perhaps,  alas!  to  our  individual  recollections  and 
sentiments!  God  alone  knows  !  Our  tongues  could  not  have  told, 
nor  dared  they  venture  to  profane  the  solemnity  of  that  hour,  or 
even  of  our  thoughts.  We  were  silent.  Suddenly  a  soft  and 
plaintive  strain,  a  slow  modulated  murmur  stole  through  the 
arabesque  ogives  of  the  ruined  wall  of  the  bishop’s  house.  This 
vague  and  confused  sound  swelled  higher  and  higher,  until  we 
distinguished  it  to  be  a  chant  from  the  united  voices  of  choristers ; 
a  monotonous,  melancholy  strain,  which  rose,  fell,  and  died  away, 
and  was  alternately  revived  and  re-echoed.  It  was  the  evening 
prayer,  which  the  Arab  bishop  was  chanting,  with  his  little  flock 
in  the  skeleton  of  that  which  had  once  been  his  church,  viz.,  a 
heap  of  ruins  piled  up  by  a  tribe  of  idolaters.  We  were  totally 
unprepared  for  this  music  of  the  soul,  whose  every  note  was,  in 
fact,  a  sentiment,  or  a  sigh  from  the  human  breast.  How  little 
did  we  expect  it  in  this  solitude,  in  the  bosom  of  a  desert,  issuing 
as  it  were  from  mute  stones,  strewed  about  by  the  combined  influ¬ 
ence  of  earthquakes,  barbarous  ignorance  and  time.  A  hallowed 
emotion  inspired  us,  and  we  joined  with  religious  fervor  in  the 
sacred  hymn,  until  the  last  sighs  of  the  pious  voices  had  died 
away,  and  silence  again  reigned  over  the  venerable  ruins. 

Same  date. 

The  temples  almost  made  us  forget  the  djerid,  which  the 
Prince  of  Balbec  had  prepared  for  our  entertainment.  We  pass¬ 
ed  the  whole  of  the  morning  in  inspecting  the  ruins.  At  four 
o’clock,  some  Arabs  came  to  inform  us  that  the  horsemen  were 
in  the  plain,  beyond  the  temples,  but  that  impatient  at  our  delay, 
they  were  about  to  retire.  They  added  that  the  Prince  supposed 
the  spectacle  was  not  agreeable  to  us,  since  we  had  not  attended, 
and  begged  that  after  we  had  satisfied  our  curiosity  at  the  ruins, 
we  would  repair  to  his  seraglio,  where  he  was  arranging  another 
entertainment  for  us.  This  courtesy  from  the  chief  of  a  fierce 
tribe  of  the  most  redoubtable  Arabs  of  this  desert  astonished  us. 
In  general  the  Arabs  and  Turks  do  not  allow  strangers  to  visit 
alone  any  ruins  of  ancient  monuments.  They  imagine  that  these 
ruins  enclose  vast  treasures  guarded  by  genii  or  demons,  and  that 
the  Europeans  know  the  magic  words*  which  lead  to  their  disco- 


103 


% 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


very,  therefore  they  cause  the  Franks  to  be  watched  with  extreme 
vigilance.  Here,  on  the  contrary,  we  were  absolutely  left  to 
ourselves  ;  having  not  even  an  Arab  guide  with  us,  and  the 
children  of  the  tribe  kept  at  a  distance  out  of  respect  to  us.  I 
know  not  howto  account  for  this  respectful  deference,  on  the  part 
of  the  Emir  of  Balbec.  Perhaps  he  took  us  to  be  emissaries  of 
Ibrahim  Pacha.  We  were  not  sufficiently  numerous  to  inspire 
with  fear  a  whole  tribe  of  from  five  to  six  hundred  men,  inured 
to  conflict  and  existing  by  robbery  ;  and  yet  they  seemed  to  be 
afraid  to  approach  us,  to  interrogate  us,  or  to  oppose  the  least  ob¬ 
stacle  to  our  movements.  We  might  have  remained  a  month 
amidst  these  temples.  We  might  have  made  excavations,  and 
carried  off  the  most  precious  fragments  without  the  least  opposi¬ 
tion  from  any  one.  I  deeply  regret  that  here,  as  well  as  at  the 
Dead  Sea,  1  was  not  aware  beforehand  of  the  character  of  the 
various  tribes.  I  should  then  have  brought  with  me  workmen  and 
camels,  and  carried  home  objects  which  would  have  enriched 
our  museums. 

We  left  the  temples  and  proceeded  to  the  Emir’s  palace.  A 
line  of  deserted  but  less  important  ruins  separates  the  great  hill  of 
the  temples,  or  the  Acropolis  of  Balbec  from  New  Balbec,  which 
is  inhabited  by  the  Arabs.  The  latter  place  is  merely  a  cluster 
of  huts,  which  have  been  a  hundred  times  destroyed  in  the  in¬ 
cessant  wars  of  the  people,  who,  on  those  occasions  have  fled  for 
shelter  to  the  cavities  among  the  ruins.  Branches  of  trees  and 
thatch  form  the  roofs  of  these  dwellings,  whose  doors  and  win¬ 
dows  are  frequently  adorned  with  admirable  fragments  of  ancient 
architecture. 

The  space  occupied  by  the  ruins  of  the  modern  city  is  im¬ 
mense.  They  extend  beyond  the  reach  of  the  eye,  and  spread 
over  two  hills,  which  undulate  above  the  great  plain.  They  pro¬ 
duce  a  melancholy  effect.  These  modern  ruins  reminded  me  of 
those  of  Athens,  which  I  had  seen  a  year  previously.  The  dead 
dry  white  of  these  crumbling  walls  and  scattered  stones,  has  none 
of  the  majestic  character  and  rich  coloring  of  genuine  ancient 
ruins.  They  present  the  appearance  of  a  vast  beach  covered 
with  the  foam  of  the  sea.  The  Emir’s  palace  is  a  spacious  open 
court,  surrounded  by  huts  of  various  forms,  looking  very  much 
like  a  farm-yard  in  one  of  our  poorest  provinces.  The  door  was 
guarded  by  several  armed  Arabs.  A  crowd  of  people  were  press¬ 
ing  to  gain  admission  ;  but  the  guards  cleared  a  passage  for  us, 
and  ushered  us  in.  The  court-yard  was  thronged  by  all  the 


104 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


chiefs  of  the  tribe,  and  a  great  number  of  the  people.  The  Emir 
and  his  family,  together  with  the  principal  Scheiks,  wearing  the 
ragged  remains  of  splendid  kaftans  and  pelisses,  were  seated  on  a 
platform  raised  above  the  crowd,  and  having  their  backs  to  the 
principal  building.  Behind  them  were  ranged  servants,  armed 
men,  and  slaves.  The  Emir  and  his  suit  rose  at  our  approach  ; 
they  helped  us  to  ascend  a  few  high  steps,  consisting  of  irregular 
blocks  of  stone,  which  served  as  a  staircase  to  the  platform. 
After  the  usual  compliments,  the  Emir  requested  us  to  sit  on 
the  Divan,  by  his  side;  pipes  were  brought  to  us,  and  the  enter¬ 
tainment  commenced. 

A  band  of  music,  consisting  of  drums,  tambourines,  shrill  fifes, 
and  iron  triangles,  gave  the  signal,  and  four  or  five  actors,  gro¬ 
tesquely  attired,  some  in  male  and  others  in  female  costume, 
advanced  to  the  centre  of  the  court-yard,  and  executed  the  wildest 
and  most  indecent  dances  that  even  the  eyes  of  those  savages 
could  endure.  These  dances  were  kept  up  for  about  an  hour,  and 
were  intermingled  from  time  to  time  with  words  and  gestures, 
and  changes  of  costume,  which  seemed  to  indicate  a  dramatic  in¬ 
tention  ;  but  there  was  only  one  thing  intelligible,  viz.,  the  horri¬ 
ble  and  disgusting  depravity  of  the  manners  of  these  people, 
indicated  by  the  movements  of  the  dancers.  I  averted  my  eyes. 
The  Emir  himself  seemed  to  blush  at  the  scandalous  diversions 
of  his  subjects,  and  made  signs  of  contempt  and  disapproval. 
But  the  shouts  and  transports  of  the  people  rewarded  the  actors  in 
those  parts  of  the  dances  which  represented  the  most  revolting 
obscenities. 

The  performers  danced,  until  overcome  by  heat  and  fatigue, 
they  could  no  longer  keep  up  with  the  increasing  rapidity  of  the 
music.  They  then  rolled  on  the  ground,  and  were  carried  away. 
No  females  were  present  at  the  spectacle ;  but  the  wives  of  the 
Emir,  whose  harem  looked  into  the  court-yard,  could  see  it  from 
their  apartments,  and  we  saw  them  through  the  wooden  railings, 
pressing  to  the  windowjs  to  look  at  the  dancers.  The  slaves  of  the 
Emir  handed  to  us  sherbets  and  various  kinds  of  sweetmeats,  and 
exquisite  beverages  composed  of  the  juice  of  pomegranates  and 
orange  flowers,  iced.  These  drinks  were  served  in  crystal  cups. 
Other  slaves  presented  to  us  muslin  napkins,  embroidered  with 
gold,  to  wipe  our  mouths.  Coffee  was  likewise  handed  round  sev¬ 
eral  times,  and  the  pipes  were  continually  renewed.  I  conversed 
for  about  half -an  hour  with  the  Emir.  He  appeared  to  me  to  be 
a  shrewd  and  sensible  man,  greatly  superior  to  what  I  should 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


105 


have  imagined  him  to  be,  had  I  judged  of  him  from  the  barbarous 
amusements  of  his  people.  He  was  about  fifty  years  of  age.  His 
countenance  was  handsome,  and  his  manners  were  distinguished 
for  dignity,  and  a  sort  of  solemn  politeness,  qualities  which  the 
lowest  of  the  Arabs  possess,  as  the  gift  of  their  climate,  or  as  a 
legacy  bequeathed  by  ancient  civilization.  His  dress  and  arms 
were  extremely  magnificent.  His  horses,  too,  which  were  stand¬ 
ing  in  the  court-yard  and  in  the  road,  were  superb  ;  and  he  offer¬ 
ed  me  some  of  the  finest.  He  questioned  me  with  the  most  deli¬ 
cate  discretion  respecting  Europe,  Ibrahim  Pacha,  and  the  object 
of  my  journey  in  these  deserts.  I  replied  with  an  affected  re¬ 
serve,  which  must  have  led  him  to  believe  that  I  had  a  totally 
different  object  from  that  of  visiting  and  examining  ancient  ruins. 
He  offered  me  all  his  tribe  to  accompany  me  to  Damascus,  across 
the  unknown  chain  of  the  Anti-Libanus,  which  I  wished  to  pass. 
I  accepted  only  a  few  horsemen  as  my  guides  and  escort,  and  I 
retired,  attended  by  all  the  Scheiks,  who  followed  us  on  horseback 
to  the  door  of  the  Greek  Bishop’s  dwelling.  I  gave  orders  for  our 
departure  on  the  following  day  ;  and  we  spent  the  evening  in  con¬ 
versation  with  our  venerable  host,  to  whom  we  were  soon  to  bid 
farewell.  A  few  hundred  piastres,  which  I  left  as  alms  for  his 
flock,  paid  for  the  hospitality  we  had  received  from  him.  He 
promised  to  despatch  a  camel  laden  with  some  fragments  of  sculp¬ 
ture,  which  1  wished  to  carry  with  me  to  Europe.  Pie  faithfully 
executed  this  commision,  and  on  my  return  to  Syria,  I  found  these 
valuable  objects  which  had  arrived  before  me  at  Bayreut. 

March  31st,  1833. 

We  left  Balbec,  at  four  o’clock  in  the  morning.  The  cara¬ 
van  consisted  of  our  usual  number  of  Moukres,  Arabs,  and  ser¬ 
vants,  together  with  eight  horsemen  of  Balbec,  who  rode  at  two 
or  three  hundred  paces  in  advance  of  the  caravan.  Day  was  be¬ 
ginning  to  dawn  as  we  crossed  the  first  hill  leading  to  the  chain  of 
the  Anti-Libanus.  Over  the  whole  of  this  hill,  there  were  im¬ 
mensely  deep  quarries ;  whence  had  been  dug  the  prodigious 
monuments  we  had  just  examined.  The  sun  was  beginning  to 
gild  their  tops,  and  they  shone  in  the  plain  beneath  our  feet,  like 
masses  of  gold.  We  could  not  turn  our  eyes  in  any  other  direc¬ 
tion,  and  we  stopped  twenty  times  to  look  at  them,  before  they 
were  entirely  out  of  sight.  At  length  they  disappeared  completely 
under  the  hill,  and  we  beheld  across  the  desert  only  the  black  or 
snowy  summits  of  the  mouutainsof  Tripoli  and  Latakia  blending 
together  in  the  firmament. 


106 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


The  mountains  which  we  now  traversed  were  entirely  barren, 
and  almost  deserted.  The  soil  generally  in  this  part  is  poor 
and  sterile ;  and  in  places  where  it  is  cultivated,  it  is  of  a  red 
color.  There  are  many  pretty  valleys,  with  gentle  and  undula¬ 
ting  slopes,  in  which  the  plough  might  work  its  way  without  im¬ 
pediment.  We  saw  neither  travelers,  villagers,  nor  inhabitants, 
until  the  middle  of  the  day.  We  pitched  our  tents  and  halted  at 
the  entrance  of  a  deep  ravine,  through  which  runs  a  torrent,  at 
that  time  dry.  We  found  a  spring  at  the  foot  of  a  rock ;  the 
water  was  abundant  and  delicious.  W e  filled  our  jars  which  hung 
at  the  saddles  of  our  horses.  We  rested  for  two  hours,  and  then 
resumed  our  journey. 

For  the  space  of  two  more  hours  we  passed  along  a  steep  path 
on  the  flank  of  a  mountain  of  barren  rock.  The  valley,  which 
became  deeper  and  deeper  on  our  right,  was  intersected  by  the 
bed  of  a  broad  river,  then  dry.  A  mountain  of  gray  rock,  com¬ 
pletely  bare,  rose  on  the  other  side,  like  a  perpendicular  wall. 
We  had  begun  to  descend  to  the  other  mouth  of  this  defile,  when 
two  of  our  horses,  laden  with  baggage,  slipped  and  fell  down  the 
precipice.  The  cushions  and  divan  carpets  with  which  they 
were  laden,  broke  their  fall,  and  they  were  saved.  We  encamp¬ 
ed  at  the  outlet  of  the  defile,  near  an  excellent  spring.  We  pass¬ 
ed  the  night  in  this  unknown  labyrinth  of  the  mountains  of  the 
Anti-Libanus.  The  snows  were  only  fifty  paces  above  our  heads. 
Our  Arabs  kindled  a  fire  with  their  brambles  and  branches  of 
trees,  in  a  little  grotto,  about  ten  paces  from  the  spot  where  we 
had  pitched  our  tent.  The  blaze  of  the  fire  shone  through  the 
canvas,  and  lighted  the  interior  of  the  tent,  in  which  we  shelter¬ 
ed  ourselves  from  the  cold.  The  chill  air  made  our  horses  neigh, 
though  they  had  on  their  libels,  a  sort  of  covering  of  felt. 
Throughout  the  whole  of  the  night  we  heard  the  complaints  of  the 
horsemen  of  Balbec  and  the  Egyptian  soldiers,  w7ho  lay  shiver¬ 
ing  under  their  cloaks.  We  ourselves,  though  well  wrapped  up 
and  covered,  could  scarcely  endure  the  bitter  cold.  At  seven 
next  morning  we  mounted  our  horses.  The  sun  was  shining 
splendidly,  and  the  heat  obliged  us  to  lay  aside  successively  our 
caftans  and  cloaks.  At  eight  o’clock  we  entered  an  elevated 
plain,  adjoining  an  Arab  village,  containing  large  houses,  with 
yards  filled  with  cattle  and  poultry,  like  the  farm-houses  of  Eu¬ 
rope.  We  did  not  stop  there.  These  people  are  on  hostile  terms 
with  the  inhabitants  of  Balbec  and  the  Arabs  of  Syria.  They 
are  a  race  almost  independent,  and  have  more  connection  with 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  IIOLY  LAND- 


107 


the  people  of  Damascus  and  Mesopotamia.  They  seemed  thriv¬ 
ing  and  laborious.  All  the  plains  surrounding  the  village  are 
well  cultivated.  We  saw  men,  women,  and  children  in  the  fields. 
The  ground  is  tilled  by  oxen.  We  met  several  scheiks  richly 
dressed  and  mounted,  going  to  and  returning  from  Damascus. 
These  were  men  of  rude  and  ferocious  aspect.  They  looked  at 
us  in  a  very  unfriendly  way,  and  passed  us  without  salutation. 
The  children  called  after  us  insulting  names.  In  a  second  vil¬ 
lage,  about  two  hours’  journey  from  that  just  mentioned,  we  with 
difficulty  purchased  some  poultry  and  a  little  rice,  for  the  dinner 
of  our  caravan.  At  six  in  the  evening,  we  encamped  in  a  field, 
above  a  mountain  defile  descending  to  a  river.  There  was  a  little 
torrent  in  the  defile,  at  which  we  watered  our  horses.  The  air 
still  continued  cold.  Before  us,  at  the  mouth  of  the  ravine,  there 
rose  points  of  rock,  grouped  like  pyramids,  and  mingling  with  the 
clouds.  These  points  were  destitute  of  vegetation,  and  the  gray 
or  black  color  of  the  rock  formed  a  broad  contrast  to  the  brilliant 
clearness  of  the  firmament,  with  which  they  were  blended. 

April  1st,  1833. 

We  mounted  our  horses  at  six  in  the  morning.  We  had  a 
delightful  jour  ney,  traveling  all  day  among  steep  mountains  ; 
separated  only  by  narrow  ravines,  through  which  rolled  torrents 
of  melted  snow.  Not  a  tree  or  a  bit  of  moss  was  growing  on  the 
sides  of  these  mountains.  Their  strange  forms  and  groupings 
gave  them  the  appearance  of  monuments  raised  by  the  hands  of 
men.  One  of  them  rose  to  an  immense  height,  and  was  nearly 
perpendicular  on  all  its  sides,  like  a  pyramid  :  it  might  be  a 
league  in  circumference.  It  is  impossible  to  conceive  the  possi¬ 
bility  of  its  ever  having  been  ascended.  No  trace  of  paths  or 
steps  are  visible,  and  yet  all  its  sides  are  hollowed  by  caverns 
which  have  been  the  work  of  human  hands.  There  are  likewise 
a  number  of  cells  of  various  sizes,  whose  doors  are  adorned  with 
sculpture,  and  carved  work  ;  some  of  these  grottoes,  whose  mouths 
opened  above  our  heads,  had  terraces  cut  in  the  rock  before  their 
doors.  We  also  saw  the  remains  of  chapels  or  temples,  and  col¬ 
umns  standing  erect  on  the  rock.  The  Arabs  affirm  that  the 
Christians  of  Damascus  dug  these  caverns  ;  and  I  think  it  is  prob¬ 
able  that  this  was  one  of  the  Thebaides,  in  which  the  early 
Christians  sought  refuge  in  the  ages  of  cenobitism  and  persecu¬ 
tion.  St.  Paul  founded  a  large  church  at  Damascus,  and  that 
church,  though  it  flourished  long,  finally  underwent  the  phases 
and  persecutions  of  all  the  other  churches  of  the  East. 


108 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


We  passed  this  mountain,  leaving  it  on  our  left,  and  it  was 
soon  a  considerable  distance  behind  us.  We  descended  rapidly, 
and  by  almost  impassable  precipices  into  a  broad  and  open  val¬ 
ley.  A  beautiful  river  flowed  through  it ;  on  the  banks  of  this 
river  we  again  saw  vegetation — willows,  poplars,  and  huge  trees, 
with  black  foliage,  and  branches  curiously  bent,  were  growing  in 
the  interstices  of  the  rock,  which  bordered  the  river.  We  jour¬ 
neyed  along  these  delightful  banks  for  the  space  of  an  hour,  still 
descending,  but  insensibly.  The  murmuring  river  accompanied 
us,  and  its  foaming  waves  washed  our  horses’  feet.  The  high 
mountains,  which  formed  the  defile  whence  the  river  descended, 
gradually  receded,  and  their  wooded  sides  were  gilded  by  the 
rays  of  the  setting  sun. 

We  now  caught  the  first  glimpse  of  Mesopotamia.  We  grad¬ 
ually  discerned  more  and  more  distinctly  the  large  valleys, 
opening  into  the  great  plain  of  the  Desert  of  Damascus  at  Bag¬ 
dad.  The  valley  in  which  we  now  were,  wound  gently  and 
widened  on  the  right  and  left  of  the  river  ;  we  began  to  perceive 
traces  of  cultivation,  and  we  heard  the  distant  lowing  of  cattle. 
Orchards  of  apricot  trees  as  large  as  nut  trees,  bordered  the  road¬ 
side.  Soon,  to  our  great  surprise,  we  saw  hedges  like  those  in 
Europe,  separating  the  orchards  and  gardens :  the  latter  were 
interspersed  with  kitchen  plants,  trees  and  flowers.  Barriers,  or 
doors  of  wood  opened  here  and  there  upon  these  beautiful 
orchards.  The  road  was  broad,  even,  and  in  as  good  condition  as 
in  the  environs  of  a  great  town  in  France.  None  of  our  party 
were  aware  of  the  existence  of  this  oasis  in  the  bosom  of  the  in¬ 
accessible  mountains  of  the  Anti-Libanus.  We  were  evidently 
approaching  a  town  or  a  village,  but  we  were  ignorant  of  its  name. 
However,  we  soon  met  an  Arab  horseman,  who  informed  us  that 
we  were  in  the  neighborhood  of  a  large  village,  called  Zebdami. 
We  already  saw  smoke  rising  from  the  tops  of  the  high  trees 
scattered  through  the  valley.  We  entered  the  streets  of  the 
village.  They  are  broad  and  straight,  with  stone  pavements  on 
each  side.  The  houses  are  large,  and  surrounded  by  yards  full 
of  cattle,  and  well  cultivated  gardens.  The  women  and  children 
came  to  the  doors  to  see  us  pass  by,  and  greeted  us  with  smiling 
and  cheerful  faces.  We  inquired  whether  there  was  any  cara¬ 
vansary  in  which  we  could  find  shelter  for  the  night ;  but  we 
were  told  that  there  was  none,  because  Zebdami  not  being  in  any 
road,  no  caravans  passed  that  way.  After  going  through  several 
of  the  streets  of  the  village,  we  arrived  at  an  open  square,  on  the 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


109 


bank  of  the  river.  There,  a  house  more  spacious  than  the  rest, 
fronted  by  a  terrace  and  surrounded  by  trees,  denoted  the  resi¬ 
dence  of  the  Scheik.  I  presented  myself  with  my  dragoman, 
and  requested  the  use  of  a  house  for  the  night.  The  slaves  went 
to  inform  the  Scheik,  who  speedily  made  his  appearance.  He  was 
a  venerable  man,  with  a  white  beard,  and  an  open  and  pleasing 
countenance.  He  offered  me  the  use  of  the  whole  of  his  house, 
and  he  pressed  this  offer  with  a  degree  of  earnestness  and  cour¬ 
teous  hospitality,  which  I  never  met  with  elsewhere.  His  nume¬ 
rous  slaves  and  the  principal  inhabitants  of  the  village  led  my 
horses  to  a  large  stable,  where  they  unloaded  them,  and  brought 
them  corn  and  straw. 

The  Scheik  directed  his  wives  to  vacate  their  apartments  ;  and 
we  were  first  ushered  into  his  divan,  where  coffee  and  sherbets 
were  served  to  us,  and  then  the  whole  house  was  consigned  to  our 
use.  The  Scheik  asked  me  if  1  would  allow  his  slaves  to  pre¬ 
pare  our  supper.  I  begged  that  my  cook  might  spare  them  that 
trouble  ;  and  only  asked  him  to  procure  me  a  calf  and  some 
sheep  to  renew  our  store  of  provisions,  which  had  been  exhausted 
in  our  journey  from  Balbec.  In  a  few  minutes  the  calf  and 
the  sheep  were  brought  and  killed  by  the  butcher  of  the 
village ;  and  while  our  servants  were  preparing  supper,  the 
Scheik  introduced  to  me  the  principal  inhabitants  of  the  place, 
who  were  his  relatives  and  friends.  He  even  asked  my  permis¬ 
sion  to  present  his  wives  to  Madame  de  Lamartine.  “  They 
were,”  he  said,  u  very  anxious  to  be  introduced  to  an  European 
lady,  and  to  see  her  clothes  and  jewels.”  Accordingly,  the 
Scheik’s  wives,  veiled,  passed  before  the  divan  on  which  we  were 
seated  in  conversation,  and  entered  my  wife’s  apartment.  There 
were  three  of  them,  and  one  seemed  old  enough  to  be  the  mother 
of  the  two  others.  The  younger  ones  were  remarkably  beauti¬ 
ful,  and  showed  the  greatest  respect,  deference,  and  affection  to 
the  elder  one.  My  wife  gave  them  some  little  presents,  and  they 
in  return,  gave  some  to  her.  During  this  interview,  the  vener¬ 
able  Scheik  of  Zebdami  conducted  us  to  a  terrace  which  he  had 
constructed  close  to  his  house,  at  the  edge  of  the  river.  Some 
piles,  fixed  into  the  bed  of  the  river,  supported  a  platform  covered 
with  carpet.  A  divan  extended  all  around  it ;  and  an  immense 
tree,  similar  to  those  which  I  had  seen  on  the  road-side,  covered 
with  its  shade,  the  terrace  and  the  river.  There  the  Scheik,  after 
the  custom  of  the  Turks,  passes  whole  hours,  enjoying  the  re¬ 
freshing  coolness  of  the  water,  the  shade  of  the  tree,  and  the 

VOL.  it.  0 


110 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  TIIE  HOLY  LAND 


singing  of  a  thousand  birds  which  people  it.  A  wooden  bridge 
leads  from  the  house  to  this  terrace.  The  prospect  it  command¬ 
ed  was  as  fine  as  any  I  had  seen  in  my  travels.  It  extends  as 
far  as  the  last  mountains  of  the  Anti-Libanus,  commanded  by  the 
pyramids  of  black  rock,  or  the  snowy  peaks  ;  whilst  the  river, 
with  its  waves  of  foam,  descends  amidst  forests  of  various  trees, 
and  is  lost  in  the  sloping  plains  of  Mesopotamia,  which  enter,  like 
gulfs  of  verdure,  into  the  sinuosities  of  the  mountains. 

Supper  was  now  ready,  and  I  begged  of  the  Scheik  to  partake 
of  it.  He  consented,  and  appeared  greatly  amused  at  the  Euro¬ 
pean  mode  of  eating.  He  had  never  seen  any  of  the  utensils 
used  at  our  tables.  He  drank  no  wine,  and  we  did  not  try  to 
persuade  him  to  do  so :  the  conscience  of  the  Mussulman  is  as 
much  to  be  respected  as  ours;  to  induce  a  Turk  to  sin  against 
the  law  which  his  religion  imposes  upon  him,  has  always  ap¬ 
peared  to  me  no  less  reprehensible  than  to  tempt  a  Christian. 
We  conversed  a  long  time  about  Europe  and  our  customs,  of 
which  the  Scheik  appeared  to  be  a  great  admirer.  He  explained 
to  us  his  mode  of  governing  his  village.  His  family  had  for  ages 
ruled  this  privileged  district  of  the  Anti-Libanus ;  and  the  ad¬ 
vanced  state  of  agriculture,  together  with  the  regulations  respect¬ 
ing  police  and  cleanliness,  which  we  had  admired  in  crossing  the 
territory  of  Zebdami,  are  due  to  this  excellent  race  of  Scheiks. 
Thus  it  is  with  every  thing  in  the  East.  All  is  exception  and 
anomaly.  Good,  like  evil,  is  perpetuated  without  end.  We 
could  judge,  by  the  aspect  of  this  enchanting  village,  what  these 
provinces  would  be  if  restored  to  their  natural  fertility. 

The  Scheik  greatly  admired  my  arms,  especially  a  brace  of 
pistols,  and  he  ill  disguised  the  pleasure  which  the  possession  of 
them  would  afford  him  ;  but  I  could  not  offer  them.  They  were 
the  pistols  which  I  had  carried  for  defence  through  the  whole  of 
my  journey,  and  I  wished  particularly  to  take  them  back  with 
me  to  Europe.  I  presented  him  with  a  gold  watch  for  his  wife. 
He  received  this  present  with  all  the  polite  reluctance  which  we 
Europeans  evince  on  similar  occasions.  He  declared  himself 
completely  satisfied,  though  I  could  discern  that  he  still  cherished 
a  predilection  for  the  brace  of  pistols.  A  quantity  of  cushions 
and  carpets  were  brought  in  for  our  beds.  We  spread  them  out 
in  the  divan  where  the  Scheik  himself  likewise  slept,  and  we 
were  lulled  to  rest  by  the  murmuring  of  the  river  under  our 
windows. 

Next  morning  we  set  out  at  dawn  of  day.  We  passed  through 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Ill 


the  second  half  of  the  village  of  Zebdami,  still  more  beautiful  than 
the  part  which  we  had  seen  the  day  before.  The  Scheik  sent  some 
horsemen  of  his  tribe  to  escort  us  as  far  as  Damascus.  We  here 
dismissed  the  horsemen  of  the  Emir  of  Balbec,  who  would  not 
have  been  in  safety  on  the  territory  of  Damascus.  We  journeyed 
for  the  space  of  an  hour  along  roads  bordered  with  quick-set 
hedges,  as  large  as  those  in  France,  and  kept  in  perfect  order.  A 
canopy  of  apricot  trees  and  pear  trees  hung  over  our  heads.  On 
the  right  and  left  were  orchards  without  end,  and  behind  them 
cultivated  fields,  in  which  were  men  and  cattle.  All  the  orchards 
are  watered  by  streams  descending  from  the  mountains  on  the 
left,  which  are  covered  with  snow  on  their  summits.  The  plain 
was  immense,  and  was  bounded  to  our  eyes  only  by  forests  in 
luxuriant  foliage.  We  proceeded  thus  for  the  space  of  three 
hours,  as  if  amidst  the  most  delicious  landscapes  of  England  or 
Lombardy,  with  no  traces  of  the  desert  or  of  barbarism.  We 
then  entered  a  rude  and  sterile  tract  of  country.  Vegetation 
and  culture  almost  completely  disappeared.  Hills  of  rock, 
scantily  covered  with  a  yellowish  kind  of  moss,  extended  before 
us,  bounded  by  gray  mountains,  more  elevated,  but  equally  bar¬ 
ren.  We  pitched  our  tents,  and  halted  at  the  foot  of  these  moun¬ 
tains,  far  from  every  human  habitation.  There  we  passed  the 
night,  on  the  margin  of  a  deeply  imbedded  torrent,  which  rolled 
like  thunder  through  a  ravine  amongst  the  rocks,  scattering  its 
foam  like  flakes  of  snow. 

We  were  again  on  horseback,  at  six  o’clock.  This  was  our 
last  journey.  We  put  on  our  Turkish  dresses  that  we  might  not 
be  known  for  Franks  in  the  environs  of  Damascus.  My  wife 
wore  the  costume  of  the  Arab  women.  She  was  covered  from 
head  to  foot  with  a  long  white  veil.  Our  Arabs  arranged  their 
dress  with  great  care,  and  pointing  towards  the  mountains  which 
we  had  yet  to  cross,  exclaimed,  “  Scham  !  Scham  !”  This  is  the 
Arabic  name  for  Damascus. 

The  fanatical  population  of  Damascus  and  the  surrounding 
country,  renders  necessary  the  most  rigid  precaution  on  the  part 
of  the  Franks  who  venture  to  visit  that  country.  The  Damas¬ 
cenes  are  the  only  people  of  the  East  who  cherish  a  religious 
hatred  and  horror  of  the  European  name  and  costume.  They 
are  the  only  Mahometan  people  who  have  refused  to  admit  the 
consuls,  or  even  the  consular  agents  of  the  Christian  powers. 
Damascus  is  a  holy  city,  fanatical  and  free :  nothing  must  sully 
its  sanctity. 


112 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


In  spite  of  the  menaces  of  the  Porte  ;  in  spite  of  the  more  for¬ 
midable  interventions  of  Ibrahim  Pacha  and  a  garrison  of  twelve 
thousand.  Egyptian  or  other  foreign  troops,  the  people  of  Da¬ 
mascus  have  obstinately  refused  to  admit  within  their  walls  the 
English  consul  general  in  Syria.  Two  terrible  insurrections 
have  arisen  in  the  city  on  the  mere  report  of  the  approach  of 
that  consul.  If  he  had  not  speedily  turned  back,  he  would  have 
been  torn  to  pieces.  Things  are  always  in  this  state.  The  ar¬ 
rival  of  a  European  in  Frank  costume  would  be  the  signal  of 
a  new  disturbance,  and  we  are  not  without  apprehension  that 
the  report  of  our  journey  may  have  reached  Damascus,  and 
may  expose  us  to  serious  danger.  We  have  taken  every  pos¬ 
sible  precaution,  having  all  assumed  the  most  rigid  Turkish 
costume.  One  European  only,  who  has  adopted  the  Arab  man¬ 
ners  and  dress,  and  who  passes  for  an  Armenian  merchant, 
has  exposed  himself  for  several  years  to  the  danger  of  inhabit¬ 
ing  Damascus.  His  object  is  to  render  himself  useful  to  the 
commerce  of  the  coast  of  Syria,  and  to  travelers  who  may  be 
tempted  to  visit  these  inhospitable  regions.  This  man  is  M. 
Baudin,  the  consular  agent  of  France  and  all  Europe.  He  was 
formerly  the  agent  of  Lady  Stanhope,  whom  he  accompanied 
in  her  first  visits  to  Balbec  and  Palmyra,  and  was  subsequently 
employed  by  the  French  Government  to  purchase  horses  in  the 
desert.  M.  Baudin  speaks  the  Arabic  language  like  a  native, 
and  has  established  friendly  and  commercial  relations  with  all 
the  wandering  tribes  in  the  deserts  round  Damascus.  He  is 
married  to  an  Arab  woman  of  European  origin.  He  has  been 
ten  years  in  Damascus,  and  in  spite  of  the  numerous  connections 
he  has  formed,  his  life  has  been  several  times  endangered  by 
the  fanatical  fury  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  city.  Twice  he  has 
been  obliged  to  fly  to  escape  death.  He  has  built  a  house  at 
Zarkley,  a  little  Christian  town  on  the  side  of  the  Libanus,  and 
there  he  takes  refuge  in  times  of  popular  commotion.  M.  Baudin, 
whose  life  is  incessantly  endangered  at  Damascus,  and  who,  in 
that  great  capital  is  the  only  channel  of  communication,  the  only 
link  of  the  policy  and  trade  of  Europe,  receives  from  the  French 
government,  as  the  reward  of  his  vast  services,  the  moderate 
salary  of  fifteen  hundred  francs ;  whilst  other  consuls,  surround¬ 
ed  by  security,  and  enjoying  all  the  luxuries  of  life  in  the  ports 
of  the  Levant,  receive  liberal  and  honorable  remunerations.  I 
cannot  comprehend  by  what  indifference  and  injustice  the  govern¬ 
ments  of  Europe  and  the  French  government  in  particular,  thus 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


113 


neglect  an  intelligent,  honorable,  courageous  and  active  young 
man,  who  renders  the  greatest  services  to  his  country. 

I  had  known  M.  Baudin  in  Syria  during  the  preceding  year, 
and  I  had  arranged  with  him  my  projected  journey  to  Damascus. 
He  had  been  informed  of  my  departure  and  my  approaching 
arrival,  and  this  morning  I  sent  forward  an  Arab  to  acquaint  him 
with  the  hour  when  I  should  be  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  city, 
and  to  beg  of  him  to  send  me  a  guide  to  direct  my  course  and  to 
advise  me  how  to  act. 

At  nine  in  the  morning  we  passed  along  the  side  of  a  mountain 
covered  with  country  houses  and  gardens,  belonging  to  the  in¬ 
habitants  of  Damascus.  A  fine  bridge  is  thrown  across  a  torrent 
at  the  foot  of  the  mountain.  We  saw  numerous  strings  of  camels 
laden  with  stones  for  new  buildings,  and  every  thing  indicated 
that  we  were  approaching  a  great  capital.  After  another  hour’s 
journey,  we  perceived,  on  the  summit  of  an  eminence,  a  little 
insulated  mosque,  the  dwelling  of  a  solitary  Mahometan.  A 
fountain  flows  near  the  mosque,  and  copper  cups,  chained  to  the 
basin,  enable  the  traveler  to  slake  his  thirst.  We  halted  for  a 
short  time  in  this  spot,  beneath  the  shade  of  a  sycamore.  The 
road  was  now  thronged  with  travelers,  peasants,  and  Arab  sol¬ 
diers.  We  again  mounted  our  horses,  and  after  proceeding  along 
an  ascent  of  a  few  hundred  paces,  we  entered  a  deep  defile, 
bounded  on  the  left  by  a  mountain  of  schistus,  rising  perpendi¬ 
cularly  above  our  heads ;  and  on  the  right  by  a  ridge  of  rock 
thirty  or  forty  feet  high.  The  descent  was  rapid,  and  fragments 
of  loose  stone  rolled  under  our  horses  feet.  I  was  riding  at  the 
head  of  the  caravan,  at  a  few  paces  behind  the  Arabs  of  Zebdami. 
They  suddenly  stopped  short,  and  uttering  exclamations  of  joy, 
pointed  to  an  opening  in  the  rock  on  our  right ;  I  approached,  and 
looking  through  the  cleft,  I  beheld  the  grandest  and  most  singular 
prospect  that  ever  presented  itself  to  the  eye  of  man.  It  was 
Damascus  and  its  boundless  desert,  lying  at  the  depth  of  a  few 
hundred  feet  below  us.  The  city,  surrounded  by  its  ramparts  of 
black  and  yellow  marble,  flanked  by  its  innumerable  square 
towers,  crowned  by  sculptured  cranies,  commanded  by  its  forest 
of  minarets  of  every  form,  and  intersected  by  the  seven  branches 
of  its  river  and  its  numberless  streams,  extended  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach.  It  was  a  labyrinth  of  gardens  and  flowers,  thrusting 
its  suburbs  here  and  there  in  the  vast  plain,  encircled  by  its  forest 
of  ten  leagues  in  circumference,  and  every  where  shaded  by 
groves  of  sycamores,  and  trees  of  every  form  and  hue.  From 


114 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


time  to  time  the  city  seemed  lost  beneath  the  umbrageous  canopies 
of  these  trees,  and  then  again  re-appeared,  spreading  into  broad 
lakes  of  houses,  suburbs,  and  villages,  interspersed  with  labyrinths 
of  orchards,  palaces,  and  streamlets.  Our  eyes  were  bewildered, 
and  only  turned  from  one  enchantment  to  fix  upon  another.  We 
stopped  simultaneously.  All  thronged  round  the  little  aperture 
in  the  rock  which  was  pierced  like  a  window,  and  we  contem¬ 
plated,  sometimes  with  exclamations,  and  sometimes  in  silence, 
the  magic  spectacle  which  had  suddenly  opened  beneath  our  eyes 
at  the  close  of  a  journey  through  so  many  barren  solitudes,  and  at 
the  commencement  of  another  desert,  which  has  no  bounds  but 
Bagdad  and  Bassora,  and  which  it  requires  forty  days  to  traverse. 
At  length  we  pursued  our  course.  The  parapet  of  rock  which 
concealed  from  us  the  plain  and  the  city,  lowered  insensibly,  and 
soon  afforded  us  an  uninterrupted  view  of  the  whole  horizon.  We 
were  now  not  more  than  five  hundred  paces  from  the  walls  of  the 
suburbs.  These  walls,  which  are  surrounded  by  charming 
kiosks  and  country-houses  in  various  styles  of  oriental  architec¬ 
ture,  glitter  round  Damascus,  like  a  circlet  of  gold.  The  square 
towers  which  flank  them,  and  which  surmount  their  line,  are 
encrusted  with  arabesques  pierced  in  ogives,  with  columns  as 
slender  as  reeds  and  ‘edged  with  cranies  surmounted  by  turbans. 
The  walls  are  covered  wtih  stone,  or  slabs  of  yellow  and  black 
marble  arranged  in  elegant  symmetry.  The  tops  of  the  cypresses 
and  other  large  trees  in  the  gardens  in  the  interior  of  the  city  rise 
above  the  walls  and  towers,  and  crown  them  with  sombre  verdure. 
The  innumerable  cupolas  of  the  mosques  and  palaces  of  a  city 
containing  four  hundred  thousand  inhabitants,  now  reflected  the 
rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and  the  blue  and  brilliant  waters  of  the  seven 
rivers  alternately  sparkled  and  disappeared  amidst  the  streets  and 
gardens.  The  horizon  was  boundless  as  the  ocean.  On  the  right 
the  broad  sides  of  the  Anti-Libanus  receded  one  behind  the  other, 
like  immense  waves  of  shadow ;  sometimes  advancing  like  pro¬ 
montories  into  the  plain,  and  sometimes  opening  like  deep  gulfs 
in  which  the  plain  imbedded  itself  with  its  forests  and  villages : 
several  of  the  latter  contain  as  many  as  thirty  thousand  inhabitants. 
Some  branches  of  the  river  and  two  large  lakes  were  here  visible, 
shining  in  the  obscurity  of  the  general  tint  of  verdure  in  which 
Damascus  seems  to  be  veiled.  On  our  left,  the  plain  was  more 
open,  and  it  was  only  at  the  distance  of  twelve  or  fifteen  leagues 
that  we  again  saw  the  summits  of  mountains,  blanched  with  snow, 
shining  in  the  blue  sky  like  clouds  on  the  ocean.  The  city  is 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


115 


entirely  surrounded  by  orchards,  or  rather  by  forests  of  fruit 
trees,  with  which  the  vines  are  entwined,  as  at  Naples,  and  hang- 
in  festoons  among  fig,  apricot,  pear,  and  cherry  trees.  Under 
these  trees,  the  e.arth,  which  is  rich,  fertile,  and  always  well 
watered,  is  carpeted  with  barley,  corn,  maize,  and  all  the  legu¬ 
minous  plants  which  this  soil  produces.  Little  white  houses  peep 
out  here  and  there,  from  amidst  the  verdure  of  the  forests  :  they 
are  either  the  gardeners5  houses,  or  little  summer  houses  belong¬ 
ing  to  the  family  who  own  the  ground.  These  cultivated 
enclosures  are  peopled  with  horses,  sheep,  camels,  and  doves, 
and  every  thing  that  can  impart  animation  to  the  scenery  of 
nature  ;  they  are  on  the  average  two  or  three  acres  in  extent,  and 
are  separated  one  from  another  by  mud  walls  baked  in  the  sun, 
and  by  fine  quickset  hedges.  Numerous  shady  paths,  refreshed 
by  fountains,  intersected  these  gardens,  leading  from  one  suburb 
to  another,  or  to  the  different  gates  of  the  city.  The  gardens 
form  a  boundary  of  twenty  or  thirty  leagues  in  circumference 
round  Damascus. 

We  had  advanced  for  some  time  in  silence  through  the  first 
labyrinths  of  trees,  somewhat  uneasy  at  not  seeing  the  guide  we 
expected.  We  halted  ;  and  he  at  length  made  his  appearance. 
He  was  a  poor  Armenian  ;  ill-dressed,  and  having  on  his  head  a 
black  turban,  such  as  all  the  Christians  of  Damascus  are  obliged 
to  wear.  He  approached  our  caravan,  said  a  few  words,  and 
made  a  sign  ;  and,  instead  of  entering  the  city  by  the  suburb  and 
the  gate  before  us,  we  proceeded  along  the  walls,  which  we  pass¬ 
ed  almost  entirely  round,  and  entered,  by  a  solitary  gate,  near  the 
quarter  of  the  Armenians.  The  house  in  which  M.  Baudin  had 
prepared  lodgings  for  us  was  in  that  quarter.  Nothing  was  said  to 
us  at  the  first  gate  of  the  city.  Having  entered  it,  we  rode  for  a 
considerable  way  past  some  high  walls,  with  grated  windows. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  street  was  a  deep  canal  of  running  water, 
which  turned  the  wheels  of  several  mills.  At  the  end  of  this 
street  we  were  stopped,  and  an  altercation  arose  between  my 
Arabs  and  some  soldiers  who  guarded  a  second  and  inner  gate; 
for  all  the  quarters  of  the  city  have  distinct  gates.  It  was  my 
wish  to  remain  unknown,  and  that  our  caravan  should  pass  for  a 
caravan  of  Syrian  merchants  ;  but  as  the  dispute  continued,  and 
seemed  to  become  angry,  I  spurred  my  horse,  and  rode  up  to  the 
head  of  the  caravan.  Close  to  the  gate  was  the  guard-house  of 
the  Egyptian  troops,  who,  having  observed  two  fowling-pieces, 
which  my  Arab  servant  had  not  taken  the  precaution  to  conceal. 


116 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLST  LANL'. 


refused  to  let  us  enter.  An  order  issued  by  Scherif-Bey  pro¬ 
hibited  the  introduction  of  arms  into  the  city  ;  and  every  night 
fears  were  entertained  of  an  insurrection  and  the  massacre  of  the 
Egyptian  troops.  Fortunately,  I  had  in  my  bo-soma  recent  letter 
from  Ibrahim  Pacha.  1  presented  it  to  the  officer  commanding 
the  post.  He  read  it;  pressed  it  to  his  forehead  and  lips,  and 
permitted  us  to  enter,  making  a  thousand  excuses  and  compli¬ 
ments.  We  wandered  for  a  considerable  time  through  a  laby¬ 
rinth  of  dirty  narrow  lanes,  lined  on  either  side  with  little  low 
houses,  whose  mud  walls  seemed  ready  to  fall  upon  us.  Through 
the  trellis  work,  which  screened  the  windows,  we  saw  beautiful 
Armenian  girls,  who,  attracted  hv  the  noise  of  our  long  file  of 
horses,  came  to  look  at  us,  and  addressed  to  us  words  of  kind 
greeting.  At  length  we  halted  at  a  low  narrow  door  in  a  street 
through  which  we  scarcely  had  room  to  pass.  We  alighted  from 
our  horses,  passed  through  a  dark,  gloomy  corridor,  and  found 
ourselves,  as  if  by  enchantment,  in  a  court  paved  with  marble, 
shaded  by  sycamores,  refreshed  by  two  Moorish  fountains,  and 
surrounded  by  marble  porticoes  and  richly  furnished  rooms. 
This  was  the  residence  of  M.  Baudin.  The  house,  like  those  of 
all  the  Christians  in  Damascus,  had  the  appearance  of  being  a 
mere  hut  on  the  outside,  but  it  was  a  delicious  palace  within. 
The  tyranny  of  the  fanatical  populace  obliges  the  Christians  to 
conceal  their  wealth  and  their  comforts  under  the  mask  of  poverty 
and  misery.  Our  baggage  was  unloaded  at  the  door;  the  court 
was  filled  with  our  packages,  our  tents,  and  saddles  ;  and  our 
horses  were  conducted  to  the  kahn  of  the  bazaar. 

M.  Baudin  assigned  to  each  of  us  a  little  apartment,  furnish¬ 
ed  in  the  oriental  style ;  and  whilst  reposing  on  his  divans,  at  his 
hospitable  table,  we  forgot  the  fatigues  of  our  long  pilgrimage. 
To  meet  a  man  whom  one  knows  and  loves,  in  a  strange  and 
foreign  land,  is  like  being  restored  to  one’s  country.  We  ex¬ 
perienced  this  in  the  house  of  M.  Baudin,  and  the  pleasant  hours 
I  spent  in  conversing  with  him  in  the  evenings,  by  the  light  of 
his  lamp,  are  engraven  in  my  memory  and  my  heart,  and  arc 
among  the  most  agreeable  recollections  of  my  travels. 

M.  Baudin  is  one  of  those  rare  men  whom  nature  has  fitted 
for  every  thing.  He  possesses  a  shrewd  and  clear  mind,  a  firm 
and  upright  heart,  and  indefatigable  activity.  He  is  alike  at 
home,  in  Europe,  in  Asia,  in  Paris  or  in  Damascus,  on  land  or 
on  sea.  He  can  accommodate  himself  to  any  place,  and  he  finds 
happiness  every  where,  because  his  mind  is  resigned,  like  that  of 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


117 


the  Arab,  to  the  great  law  which  forms  the  basis  both  of  Chris¬ 
tianity  and  Islamism,  viz.,  submission  to  the  will  of  God  ;  and 
also,  because  he  is  animated  by  that  ingenious  activity  of  mind, 
which  is  the  second  soul  of  the  European.  His  language,  his 
person,  and  his  manners,  all  bear  the  impression  which  his  for¬ 
tune  has  stamped  upon  them.  To  hear  him  conversing  about 
France  and  the  passing  events  of  Europe,  he  might  be  taken  for 
a  man  just  arrived  from  Paris:  to  see  him  in  the  evening  reclin¬ 
ing  on  his  divan,  between  a  merchant  from  Bassora,  and  a  Turk¬ 
ish  pilgrim  from  Bagdad,  smoking  his  pipe  or  his  narguile,  indo¬ 
lently  passing  his  fingers  over  the  amber  beads  of  an  oriental 
chaplet,  a  turban  drawn  over  his  forehead,  and  slippers  on  his  feet, 
uttering  a  word  in  about  every  quarter  of  an  hour,  on  the  price  of 
coffee  or  furs,  he  would  be  taken  for  a  slave  merchant,  or  a  pil¬ 
grim  returning  from  Mecca.  No  man’s  education  and  views  can 
be  enlarged  unless  he  has  traveled  much  •  unless  he  has  chang¬ 
ed  twenty  times  his  modes  of  thinking  and  the  habits  of  his  life. 
The  conventional  and  uniform  customs  adopted  by  the  man  who 
leads  a  regular  and  monotonous  life  in  his  own  country,  are 
moulds  which  give  a  diminished  impress  to  every  thing.  Taste, 
philosophy,  religion,  character,  all  are  more  enlarged,  more  just 
and  accurate  in  the  man  who  has  seen  nature  and  society  under 
various  points  of  view.  Traveling  supplies  an  optic  for  the  ma¬ 
terial  and  intellectual  universe.  To  travel  in  search  of  wisdom, 
was  a  sort  of  proverb  among  the  ancients  :  but  it  is  not  under¬ 
stood  among  us.  They  traveled  not  merely  in  search  of  unknown 
dogmas  and  lessons  of  philosophy,  but  to  see  and  to  judge  every 
thing.  For  my  part  I  am  constantly  struck  with  the  narrow  and 
petty  view  we  take  of  the  institutions  and  customs  of  foreign  na¬ 
tions  ;  and  if  my  mind  has  been  enlarged — if  my  views  have  been 
extended — if  I  have  learned  to  tolerate  things  by  understanding 
them,  I  owe  all  these  advantages  to  my  frequent  changes  of  scene 
and  points  of  view.  To  study  past  ages  in  history,  men  by  tra¬ 
veling,  and  God  in  nature — that  is  the  grand  school.  We  study 
every  thing  in  our  miserable  books,  and  compare  every  thing  with 
our  petty  local  habits.  And  who  have  made  our  habits  and  our 
books?  Men  who  knew  as  little  as  ourselves.  Let  us  open  the 
Book  of  books  !  Let  us  live,  see,  and  travel !  The  world  is  a 
book  of  which  we  turn  a  page  at  every  step.  How  little  must  he 
know  who  has  turned  but  one  page  ! 

VOL.  II.  6* 


118 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


DAMASCUS. 

April  2d,  1833. 

Dressed  in  the  Arabic  costume,  1  this  morning  traversed  the 
principal  quarters  of  Damascus,  accompanied  only  by  M.  Baudin, 
for  we  were  fearful  that  the  appearance  of  a  numerous  party  of 
strangers  would  attract  attention  to  us.  We  passed  a  considera¬ 
ble  time  in  exploring  the  dark,  dirty,  and  tortuous  streets  of  the 
Armenian  quarter.  It  has  all  the  appearance  of  one  of  the  most 
miserable  villages  of  our  provinces.  The  walls  of  the  houses 
are  built  of  mud,  and  are  pierced  on  the  side  next  the  street,  with 
small  grated  windows,  having  shutters  painted  red.  The  low 
doors  look  like  the  entrances  to  stables,  and  they  are  almost  in- 
variably  obstructed  by  a  heap  of  dirt  and  a  pool  of  water.  We 
entered  some  of  these  houses,  which  belong  to  the  principal 
Armenian  merchants,  and  I  was  astonished  at  their  internal 
richness  and  elegance.  Having  made  our  way  into  the  door, 
and  passed  through  an  obscure  corridor,  we  found  ourselves  in  a 
court-yard,  ornamented  with  superb  marble  fountains,  and  shaded 
by  one  or  two  sycamores  or  Persian  willows.  This  court  is 
paved  with  large  slabs'  of  polished  stone  or  marble.  Vines  grow 
up  the  walls,  which  are  likewise  faced  with  white  and  black 
marble.  Five  or  six  doors,  with  marble  steps,  and  ornamented 
with  arabesque  sculpture,  lead  to  saloons  which  are  occupied 
by  the  different  members  of  the  family,  male  and  female.  These 
rooms  are  large,  with  vaulted  roofs,  and  have  a  great  many  small 
high  windows  to  admit  the  free  entrance  of  the  external  air. 
Almost  all  are  divided  into  two  compartments  ;  the  first,  which 
is  lower  than  the  other,  is  occupied  by  the  servants  and  slaves. 
The  second  compartment  is  elevated  by  a  few  steps,  and  separa¬ 
ted  from  the  lower  one  by  a  balustrade  of  marble  or  cedar  wood, 
exquisitely  carved.  In  general,  one  or  two  fountains,  or  jets- 
d’eau,  are  playing  in  the  centre,  or  in  the  angles  of  the  room. 
Round  these  fountains  are  vases  of  flowers;  and  tame  swallows 
and  doves  perch  on  the  edges  of  the  basins  and  drink  the  water. 
The  walls  of  these  rooms  are  faced  with  marble  up  to  a  certain 
height,  beyond  which  they  are  covered  with  stucco,  painted  in 
arabesque  patterns  of  a  thousand  colors,  and  frequently  finished 
by  elaborate  gilt  mouldings.  The  furniture  consists  of  magnifi¬ 
cent  Persian  or  Bagdad  carpets,  completely  covering  the  marble 
or  cedar-wood  floor,  and  a  great  quantity  of  cushions  and  mat- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


119 


tresses  of  silk  are  lying  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment,  and  serve 
as  seats  or  sofas  for  the  members  of  the  family.  A  divan,  cov¬ 
ered  with  rich  stuff,  extends  all  round  the  room.  Women  and 
children  are  generally  sitting  or  lying  upon  it,  engaged  in  differ¬ 
ent  occupations.  Cradles  for  young  infants  are  on  the  floor 
among  the  carpets  and  cushions.  The  master  of  the  house  has, 
usually,  one  of  these  apartments  for  himself :  there  he  receives 
the  visits  of  strangers.  We  generally  found  him  seated  on  his 
divan,  his  writing  case  lying  on  the  ground  by  his  side,  a  sheet 
of  paper  lying  on  his  knee,  or  in  his  left  hand,  writing  and  calcu¬ 
lating  ;  for  commerce  is  the  occupation  and  the  genius  of  the 
inhabitants  of  Damascus.  Wherever  we  went  to  return  the  visits 
which  had  been  paid  to  us  on  the  preceding  day,  we  were  inva¬ 
riably  received  with  courtesy  and  cordiality  by  the  master  of  the 
house.  He  ordered  for  us  pipes,  coffee,  and  sherbets,  and  con¬ 
ducted  us  to  the  saloon  occupied  by  the  women.  The  high 
opinion  I  had  formed  of  the  beauty  of  the  Syrian  females,  and 
my  vivid  recollections  of  the  charms  of  the  women  of  Rome  and 
Athens,  all  vanished  at  sight  of  the  Armenian  women,  and  the 
young  girls  of  Damascus.  We  every  where  saw  features  so 
exquisitely  pure  and  delicate,  that  the  pencil  of  the  most  expert 
European  artist  could  scarcely  render  justice  to  them  : — eyes  in 
which  the  serene  light  of  the  soul  is  diffused  in  a  sombre  azure 
tint,  and  with  a  softness  of  expression  which  I  never  saw  in  any 
eyes  before, — complexions  so  transparent,  that  they  vie  with  the 
most  exquisite  tints  of  the  rose-leaf, — the  teeth,  the  smile,  the 
grace  of  form  and  motion,  the  clear  and  silvery  voice,  all  is  in 
harmony  in  these  beautiful  creatures.  They  converse  with 
elegance  and  modest  reserve  ;  but  without  embarrassment,  and, 
as  if  accustomed  to  the  admiration  which  they  inspire.  They 
seem  to  preserve  their  beauty  to  an  advanced  age.  This  may 
be  attributable  to  the  climate,  and  the  peaceful  lives  they  lead  in 
the  bosom  of  their  families,  where  mind  and  body  are  not  worn 
out  by  the  artificial  passions  of  society.  In  almost  all  the  fami¬ 
lies  which  I  visited,  I  found  the  mother  as  beautiful  as  her  daugh¬ 
ters  ;  though  the  latter  were  not  more  than  fifteen  or  sixteen 
years  of  age.  They  marry  at  twelve  or  thirteen.  The  dress  of 
these  women  is  the  most  elegant  that  we  had  yet  seen  in  the  East. 
Their  heads  were  adorned  with  a  profusion  of  hair,  which,  min¬ 
gled  with  flowers,  was  twisted  several  times  over  the  forehead, 
and  then  fell  in  long  plaits  on  each  side  of  the  neck  and  shoulders. 
Ornaments  consisting  of  pieces  of  gold  and  pearls  were  sometimes 


120 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLi'  LAND'. 


mingled  with  the  hair,  and  a  little  calot  of  wrought  gold  is  worn 
on  the  crown  of  the  head.  The  bosom  is  very  slightly  covered 
with  a  small  bodice,  with  wide  open  sleeves,  made  of  silk  em¬ 
broidered  with  gold  and  silver,  wide  white  trowsers  descend  in 
fulness  to  the  ankle,  and  on  their  feet  they  wear  yellow  morocco 
slippers  without  stockings.  A  long  robe  of  silk  of  some  brilliant 
color,  descending  from  the  shoulders,  is  open  in  front,  and  con¬ 
fined  round  the  waist  by  a  girdle  or  sash  with  long  ends.  I  could 
not  avert  my  eyes  from  these  beautiful  and  graceful  women. 
Our  visits  and  conversations  were  every  where  prolonged,  and  I 
fo.und  them  as  amiable  as  they  are  beautiful.  The  customs  of 
Europe,  the  dress,  and  the  habits  of  the  women  of  the  west,  were 
in  general  the  subjects  of  conversation.  They  did  not  seem  to 
envy  the  lives  of  our  women,  and  on  observing  the  grace,  the 
simplicity,  the  amiability,  the  serenity  of  mind  and  heart  which 
they  preserve  in  the  seclusion  of  their  domestic  life,  it  would  be 
difficult  to  say  what  they  could  envy  in  our  women  who  mingle 
with  the  world,  and  who,  in  the  turmoil  of  society,  waste  in  a 
few  years  their  beauty,  their  minds,  and  their  health.  The 
Armenian  women  occasionally  visit  each  other,  and  they  are 
not  entirely  excluded  from  the  society  of  the  men  ;  but  that  asso¬ 
ciation  is  confined  to*  a  few  young  male  relatives  or  friends, 
among  whom,  with  due  consideration  to  inclination  and  family 
interests,  a  husband  is  selected  for  them  at  a  very  early  age. 
When  this  choice  is  made,  the  bridegroom  is  permitted  to  frequent 
the  house  like  a  son,  and  to  take  part  in  all  the  amusements  of 
the  family. 

I  was  introduced  to  the  chief  of  the  Armenians  at  Damascus 
— -a  very  clever  and  well-informed  man.  Ibrahim  has  appointed 
him  to  represent  his  countrymen  in  the  Municipal  Council,  by 
which  the  city  is  at  present  governed.  This  man,  though  he  has 
never  been  out  of  Damascus,  has  the  most  enlightened  and  accu¬ 
rate  views  on  the  politics  of  Europe,  on  the  general  advancement 
of  human  intelligence,  on  the  transformation  of  modern  govern¬ 
ments,  and  the  probable  state  of  future  civilization.  I  never  met 
in  Europe  a  man  whose  opinions  on  these  subjects  were  more 
j'ust  and  sensible.  I  was  the  more  surprised  at  this,  as  the  only 
languages,  besides  his  own,  with  which  he  was  acqainted,  were 
Latin  and  Greek ;  consequently,  he  had  never  read  the  journals 
and  other  publications  of  the  West,  in  which  the  questions  above 
mentioned  are  placed  within  the  reach  of  even  those  who  often 
discuss  them  without  understanding  them.  Neither  had  he  ever 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLV  LAND. 


121 


enjoyed  the  opportunity  of  conversing  with  well-informed  men 
from  our  part  of  the  world — for  Damascus  is  shut  out  from  all 
connection  with  Europe.  The  Armenian  I  speak  of  has  gained 
all  his  information  from  geographical  charts,  and  the  accounts  of 
some  great  historical  and  political  events  which  have  reached 
him,  and  which  his  natural  shrewdness  of  mind  has  enabled  him 
to  comprehend  and  to  reflect  upon.  I  was  quite  delighted  with 
this  man,  and  I  passed  a  good  part  of  the  morning  in  conversing 
with  him.  He  has  promised  to  come  and  see  me  this  evening, 
and  every  day  during  my  stay  at  Damascus.  He  foresees,  as  I 
do,  all  that  Providence  has  prepared  for  the  East  and  the  West, 
by  the  inevitable  intermingling  of  these  two  parts  of  the  world  ; 
mutually  giving  to  each  other  space,  activity,  and  information. 
This  Armenian  has  a  daughter,  fourteen  years  of  age,  one  of  the 
loveliest  girls  I  ever  beheld.  Her  mother,  who  is  still  young,  is, 
likewise,  very  pretty.  He  presented  to  me  his  son,  a  lad  of 
twelve  years  old,  on  whose  education  he  bestows  great  attention. 

“  You  should  send  him  to  Europe,”  said  I,  “  and  give  him  that 
education  you  regret  the  want  of  yourself.  T  will  take  charge  of 
him.” 

“  Alas  !”  replied  the  Armenian,  “  I  have  often  thought  of  doing 
so;  but  if  great  changes  should  not  yet  take  place  in  the  state  of 
the  East,  what  service  should  I  render  to  my  son  if  I  were  to  raise 
him,  by  his  knowledge,  above  the  age  and  the  country  in  which 
he  is  destined  to  live  ?  What  would  he  do  in  Damascus  on  re¬ 
turning  hither  with  the  information,  the  manners,  and  the  taste 
for  liberty  he  has  acquired  in  Europe?  If  one  must  be  a  slave, 
it  is  better  never  to  have  known  any  thing  but  slavery.” 

Having  made  this  round  of  visits,  we  quitted  the  Armenian 
quarter  of  the  city,  which  is  separated  from  another  quarter  by  a 
gate  closed  every  evening.  We  entered  a  street  broader  and  clean¬ 
er  than  those  through  which  we  had  hitherto  passed.  It  contained 
the  palaces  of  the  principal  Agas  of  Damascus.  These  are  the 
nobles  of  the  country.  The  faqades  of  their  palaces,  which  look¬ 
ed  to  the  street,  are  like  the  long  walls  of  prisons  or  hospitals. 
They  are  built  of  mud  and  have  few  or  no  windows.  Here  and 
there  a  large  door  opens  into  a  court-yard,  and  under  the  shade  of 
the  door,  a  number  of  grooms,  servants,  and  black  slaves  were  ly¬ 
ing.  I  visited  two  of  these  Agas,  friends  of  M.  Baudin.  The  in¬ 
terior  of  their  palaces  was  superb.  First,  there  was  a  spacious 
court-yard  ornamented  with  superb  jets-d’eau ,  and  shaded  by 
trees.  These  saloons  were  still  more  richly  furnished  than  those 


122 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


of  the  Armenians.  The  decorations  of  some  of  them  cost  as  much 
as  one  hundred  thousand  piastres.  Nothing  more  magnificent 
could  be  seen  in  Europe.  They  are  all  fitted  up  in  the  Arabian 
style.  Some  of  the  palaces  contain  eight  or  ten  of  these  splendid 
saloons,  The  Agas  of  Damascus  are,  in  general,  descendants  or 
sons  of  Pachas,  and  they  lavish  on  the  decorations  of  their  pala¬ 
ces  the  treasures  acquired  by  their  fathers.  It  is  the  nepotism  of 
Rome  under  another  form.  These  Agas  are  numerous.  They 
hold  the  principal  employment  of  the  city  under  the  Pachas,  de¬ 
puted  by  the  Grand  Signior.  They  have  vast  territorial  pos¬ 
sessions  in  the  villages  round  Damascus.  Their  luxury  consists 
in  palaces,  gardens,  horses,  and  women.  At  a  signal  from  the 
Pacha  their  heads  are  struck  off,  and  then  their  palaces,  their 
gardens,  their  women,  and  their  horses,  pass  into  the  hands  of 
some  new  favorite  of  fortune.  Such  a  system  naturally  invites  to 
enjoyment  and  resignation  ; — voluptuousness  and  fatalism  are  the 
two  necessary  results  of  Eastern  despotism. 

The  two  Agas  whom  1  have  visited,  received  me  with  the 
most  perfect  politeness.  The  brutal  fanaticism  of  the  common 
people  of  Damascus  does  not  extend  to  the  higher  classes.  They 
know  that  I  am  a  European  traveler,  and  they  believe  me  to  be  a 
secret  ambassador,  sent  to  collect  information  for  the  sovereigns 
of  Europe  relative  to  the  disputes  between  the  Turks  and  Ibra¬ 
him.  I  expressed  to  one  of  the  Agas,  my  wish  to  see  his  finest 
horses,  and  to  purchase  some  if  he  would  consent  to  sell  them. 
He  immediately  desired  his  son,  accompanied  by  a  groom,  to  con¬ 
duct  me  to  his  vast  stable,  where  he  has  thirty  or  forty  of  the  finest 
horses  from  the  Desert  of  Palmyra.  I  never  beheld  such  superb 
animals.  They  were  very  high  and  of  a  dark  gray  or  whitish- 
gray  color.  Their  manes  were  like  black  silk,  eyes  of  a  dark 
chestnut  color,  broad  and  flat  shoulders,  and  necks  and  chests  as 
graceful  as  those  of  the  swan.  When  these  horses  saw  me  enter 
the  stable,  and  heard  me  speak  a  foreign  language,  they  turned 
their  heads  and  trembled  and  neighed.  They  expressed  their  as¬ 
tonishment  and  fear  by  oblique  and  timid  glances,  and  by  a  curling 
of  their  nostrils,  which  gave  to  their  beautiful  heads  an  extraordi¬ 
nary  expression  of  intelligence.  I  already  had  occasion  to  re¬ 
mark,  that  the  intellect  of  animals  in  Syria  is  much  more  prompt 
and  developed  than  in  Europe.  A  group  of  the  Faithful,  surpris¬ 
ed  in  a  mosque  by  a  Christian,  could  not  by  their  attitudes  and 
countenances  have  more  forcibly  expressed  indignation  and  alarm, 
than  did  these  horses  on  seeing  a  stranger’s  face,  and  hearing  an 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


123 


unknown  tongue.  I  examined  them.  They  were  led  into  the 
court-yard,  but  1  could  not  decide  on  which  I  should  fix  my  choice, 
for  they  were  all  remarkable  for  beauty.  At  length  I  decided  on 
a  young  white  three-year  old  stallion,  which  seemed  to  me  the 
very  pearl  of  all  the  horses  of  the  desert.  The  price  was  a  good 
deal  debated  between  M.  Baudin  and  the  Aga,  but  at  length  fixed 
at  six  thousand  piastres,  which  I  paid  over  to  the  Aga.  The 
horse  had  been  brought  from  Palmyra,  where  it  had  been  but  a 
short  time  ;  and  the  Arab  who  had  sold  it  to  the  Aga  had  received 
for  it  five  thousand  piastres  and  a  magnificent  mantle  of  silk  in¬ 
terwoven  with  gold.  The  animal,  like  all  Arabian  horses,  bore 
his  genealogy  on  his  neck,  suspended  in  a  bag,  together  with  se¬ 
veral  amulets,  to  preserve  him  from  the  influence  of  the  evil  eye. 

We  looked  through  the  bazaars  of  Damascus:  the  grand  ba¬ 
zaar  is  about  half  a  league  in  length.  They  all  consist  of  long 
streets,  covered  with  timber- work,  at  a  considerable  height,  and 
lined  with  shops,  stalls,  magazines,  and  coffee-houses  ;  the  shops 
are  narrow,  but  rather  deep  ;  the  dealer  is  squatted  upon  his  heels 
in  front,  his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  and  his  narguil  beside  him.  The 
magazines  are  replete  with  merchandise  of  all  kinds,  and  above 
all,  with  stuffs  from  India,  which  are  brought  to  Damascus  by  the 
caravans  of  Bagdad.  Barbers  are  lively,  inviting  the  passers-by 
to  have  their  hair  cut,  or  be  shaved  ;  and  their  stalls  are  always 
full  of  people. 

A  crowd,  as  numerous  as  that  thronging  the  galleries  of 
the  Palais  Royal,  is  all  day  to  be  seen  traversing  the  grand 
bazaar.  But  the  coup  d? ceil  presented  by  this  crowd  is  infi¬ 
nitely  more  picturesque.  There  are  Agas,  clothed  in  long  gar¬ 
ments  of  crimson  silk,  stuffed  with  martin-skin — their  sabres 
or  poniards,  enriched  with  diamonds,  suspended  from  their  gir¬ 
dles.  These  have  each  five  or  six  followers — servants  or  slaves — 
who  march  silently  behind  them,  bearing  their  pipes  and  nar- 
guils.  They  are  accustomed  to  seat  themselves,  during  part  of 
the  day,  upon  divans  placed  outside  the  coffee-houses  constructed 
on  the  borders  of  the  brooks  that  run  through  the  town,  which 
divans  are  shaded  by  fine  plantains.  Here  they  smoke,  and  chat 
with  their  friends,  and  this  forms  the  soul  means  of  communication, 
excepting  the  mosque,  enjoyed  by  the  inhabitants  of  Damascus. 
Plere  are  concocted,  almost  in  silence,  the  frequent  revolutions 
which  convulse  that  capital.  The  mute  fermentation  is  sup¬ 
pressed  for  some  time,  and  then  bursts  forth  at  the  moment  when 
least  expected.  The  people  fly  to  arms  under  the  conduct  of  any 


124 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


leader  whatsoever,  and  the  government  passes,  for  a  brief  time, 
into  the  hands  of  the  victor.  The  conquered  are  either  put  to 
death,  or  escape  into  the  deserts  of  Baibec  or  Palmyra,  where  they 
are  sheltered  by  independent  tribes. 

To  return  to  the  bazaar.  Officers  and  soldiers  belonging  to 
the  Pacha  of  Egypt,  dressed  nearly  in  the  European  fashion,  drag 
their  sabres  along  the  pavement.  We  encountered  several  who 
accosted  us  in  the  Italian  tongue.  They  are  obliged  to  be  on 
their  guard  at  Damascus,  for  the  people  view  them  with  horror. 
Every  night  there  is  a  risk  of  a  commotion  breaking  out. 
Scherif-Bey,  one  of  the  most  able  men  in  the  service  of 
Mehemet-Ali,  commands  them,  and  governs  the  town  very 
minutely.  He  has  formed  an  encampment  of  ten  thousand 
men  outside  the  walls,  on  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  established 
a  garrison  in  the  castle  ;  he  himself  inhabits  the  seraglio.  In¬ 
telligence  of  the  least  check  sustained  by  Ibrahim  in  Syria,  would 
be  the  signal  for  a  general  rising,  and  for  a  deadly  struggle  at 
Damascus.  The  thirty  thousand  Armenian  Christians  who  dwell 
in  the  city  are  in  a  state  of  considerable  alarm,  and  would  most 
probably  be  massacred,  should  the  Turks  get  the  upper  hand. 
The  Mussulmans  are  greatly  irritated  at  the  equality  which 
Ibrahim  has  established  between  them  and  the  Christians,  many 
of  whom  abuse  this  moment  of  tolerance  by  insulting  their 
enemies,  and  by  a  violation  of  their  usages,  which  is  well  cal¬ 
culated  to  exasperate  their  fanaticism.  M.  Baudin  holds  himself 
ready,  at  the  first  warning,  to  seek  refuge  at  Zarkley. 

The  Arabs  of  the  Great  Desert,  as  well  as  those  of  Palmyra, 
muster  strong  in  the  city  and  abound  in  the  bazaar.  Their  dress 
consists  simply  of  a  large  cloak  of  white  wool,  in  which  they  en¬ 
velope  themselves,  forming  a  drapery  not  unlike  that  seen  on  the 
statues  of  the  ancients.  Their  complexion  is  tanned,  their  beard 
black,  their  eyes  ferocious.  They  form  groups  before  the  shops 
of  the  tobacco  merchants.  Their  horses,  always  saddled  and 
bridled,  are  made  fast  in  the  streets  and  in  the  squares.  They 
despise  both  Turks  and  Egyptians ;  but  in  case  of  a  revolt,  would 
march  against  the  troops  of  Ibrahim.  That  chief  has  not  been 
enabled  to  exclude  them  more  than  two  days  from  Damascus, 
though  he  marched  himself  with  his  artillery  against  them 
during  his  progress  to  that  city.  They  are  at  present,  as  I 
have  said,  his  enemies.  I  shall  speak  more  at  large  by  and 
by  of  these  unknown  tribes  belonging  to  the  grand  desert  of 
Euphrates. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


125 


Every  species  of  commerce  and  industry  has  its  appointed 
quarter  in  the  bazaars.  Yonder  are  the  armorers,  whose 
shops  are,  however,  far  from  presenting  any  of  those  splendid 
and  renowned  arms  which  one  reads  of  with  respect  to  the 
ancient  commerce  of  the  Levant.  The  fabrication  of  the 
celebrated  sabres,  if  ever  it  existed  in  Damascus,  is  com¬ 
pletely  lost  and  forgotten  ;  none  are  produced  now  but  of  the 
commonest  temper  ;  and  one  meets  with  nothing  at  the  shops 
of  the  armorers  but  old  weapons,  almost  good  for  nothing. 
I  vainly  sought  for  a  sabre  or  poniard  of  the  valued  ancient 
temper.  Such  sabres,  however,  are  occasionally  brought  from 
Khorassan,  a  province  of  Persia — and  even  there  they  are  no 
longer  fabricated.  A  certain  number  exists,  which  pass  from 
owner  to  owner,  like  precious  relics,  and  which  are  of  ines¬ 
timable  value.  The  blade  of  that  which  was  presented  to  me 
had  cost  the  Pacha  five  thousand  piastres.  The  Turks  and 
Arabs,  who  estimate  these  blades  more  highly  than  diamonds, 
would  give  all  they  had  in  the  world  for  such  a  weapon.  Their 
looks  sparkled  with  enthusiasm  and  delight  when  they  saw  mine, 
and  the  expression  upon  their  features  amounted  almost  to  adora¬ 
tion  of  so  perfect  an  instrument  of  death. 

The  jewelers  have  neither  art  nor  taste  in  the  arrangement 
of  their  pearls  and  other  precious  stones,  of  .which,  nevertheless, 
they  possess  an  immense  quantity.  All  the  riches  of  orientals  are 
of  a  species  calculated  for  individuals  of  erratic  and  unsettled 
habits.  There  are  great  numbers  of  goldsmiths  among  them, 
who,  however,  make  but  little  display  of  their  treasures,  all  being 
enclosed  in  small  cabinets,  which  they  open  whenever  a  jewel  is 
required. 

The  saddlers  are  perhaps  the  most  numerous  and  most  inge¬ 
nious  artisans  to  be  found  in  the  bazaars.  Nothing  in  Europe 
can  equal  the  taste,  the  gracefulness,  or  the  richness  of  those 
splendid  trappings  which  they  make  for  the  horses  of  Arab  chiefs 
or  of  the  agas  of  the  land.  The  saddle  is  fabricated  of  velvet 
or  silk  bordered  with  gold  and  with  pearls.  The  collar  of  red 
morocco,  which  in  broad  fringes  falls  over  the  horse’s  chest,  is 
adorned  with  buttons  of  gold  and  silver  and  tufts  of  pearls. 
The  bridle,  infinitely  more  elegant  than  ours,  is  also  invariably 
of  morocco  of  different  colors  decorated  with  points  of  silk  or  of 
gold.  All  these  articles  are  at  the  same  time  much  lower  in 
price  than  those  fabricated  in  Europe.  I  purchased  two  of  these 
magnificent  bridles  for  a  hundred  and  twenty  piastres,  about  fifty 
francs. 


128 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Bui  the  dealers  in  eatables  are  those  whose  stores  exhibit 
most  order,  elegance,  and  cleanness,  and  are  in  fact  altogether 
most  attractive  to  the  eye.  Their  shops  are  set  out  in  front  with 
a  multitude  of  baskets  filled  with  vegetables  of  different  kinds, 
dried  fruits,  and  vegetable  seeds,  whose  names  I  know  not,  but 
whose  glossy  surface  presents  a  beautiful  variety  of  form  and 
color,  shining  like  pebbles  newly  thrown  up  by  the  sea.  Sundry 
kinds  of  bread,  of  every  size  and  every  quality,  are  likewise  dis¬ 
played  outside  the  shops,  with  muffins  and  similar  preparations, 
calculated  for  different  hours  of  the  day  and  different  kinds  of 
repast;  they  are  vended  hot,  like  our  pastry,  and  have  a  delicious 
flavor.  I  have,  in  truth,  never  seen  so  many  varieties  of  pastry 
as  at  Damascus,  and  it  costs  scarcely  any  thing. 

There  are  restaurateurs  also,  who  provide  dinners  for  the 
merchants  or  promenaders  of  the  bazaar.  They  furnish,  how¬ 
ever,  neither  table  nor  cloth  ;  but  present  on  skewers  little  pieces 
of  meat  about  the  size  of  a  walnut,  and  baked  in  an  oven.  The 
customer  bears  the  savory  morsels  away  upon  certain  of  the 
muffins  before-mentioned,  and  eats  them  with  finger  and  thumb. 
The  numerous  fountains  of  the  bazaar  furnish  the  sole  liquid  to 
wash  down  this  Arab  feast.  A  man  might  board  himself  plenti¬ 
fully  at  Damascus  for  two  piastres,  or  about  ten  sous  per  day. 
The  natives  generally  spend  but  half  this  sum  upon  their  food. 
One  might  hire  a  beautiful  house  for  from  two  to  three  hundred 
piastres  a  year.  In  fine,  with  an  income  of  three  or  four  hun¬ 
dred  francs,  a  man  might  live  at  his  ease — and  it  is  the  same  all 
throughout  Syria. 

Proceeding  through  the  bazaar,  we  reach  the  quarter  occu¬ 
pied  by  the  manufacturers  of  chests  and  trunks,  which  is  a  very 
considerable  branch  of  industry  ;  for  all  the  movable  furniture 
of  an  Arab  family  consists  in  two  or  three  trunks,  wherein  they 
stow  their  clothes  and  their  trinkets.  The  greater  part  of  these 
chests  are  made  of  cedar  wood,  painted  Ted,  and  they  exhibit 
devices  worked  in  gold  nails.  Several  of  these  devices  are,  in¬ 
deed,  admirably  sculptured  in  relief,  and  covered  elegantly  and 
ingeniously  with  arabesques.  I  bought  three  of  these  trunks, 
and  despatched  them  by  the  caravan  of  Tarabourlous.  The  odor 
of  cedar  wood,  in  fact,  is  expanded  throughout  every  bazaar  ; 
and  the  atmosphere  of  these  places,  in  which  are  mingled  the 
thousand  different  perfumes  exhaled  from  the  shops  of  spice-sell¬ 
ers,  druggists,  venders  of  perfumed  gems  and  amber,  trunk- 
makers,  cabinet-makers,  or  coffee-sellers,  together  with  that  of 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


127 


pipes  unceasingly  pouring  forth  their  clouds  of  smoke,  reminded 
me  altogether  of  the  impression  which  I  experienced  the  first 
time  I  visited  Florence,  where  the  manufactories  of  cypress  wood 
filled  the  streets  with  an  odor  extremely  similar. 

Scherif-Bey,  governor  of  Syria  for  Mehemet  Ali,  left  Damas¬ 
cus  this  day.  Intelligence  having  arrived  during  the  night  of 
the  victory  of  Ivonia  gained  by  Ibrahim  over  the  Grand  Vizier, 
Scherif-Bey  has  profited  by  the  terror  wherewith  the  news  has 
impressed  the  Damascenes,  to  go  to  Aleppo.  He  has  confided 
the  government  of  the  city  to  an  Egyptian  general,  assisted  by  a 
municipal  council,  the  members  of  which  are  selected  from  the 
principal  merchants  of  different  nations.  A  camp  of  six  thou¬ 
sand  Egyptians  and  three  thousand  Arabs,  is  stationed  at  the 
gates  of  the  town:  the  coup  d’ ceil  presented  by  this  assemblage 
is  extremely  picturesque  :  tents  of  all  shapes  and  all  colors  are 
raised  under  the  shade  of  immense  fruit  trees  on  the  banks  of 
the  river.  The  horses,  for  the  most  part  admirable,  are  fastened 
in  long  files  stretched  from  one  extremity  of  the  encampment  to 
another.  Undisciplined  Arabs  are  seen  there,  in  all  the  grotesque 
diversity  of  their  tribes,  arms,  and  costumes;  one  party  almost 
rising  in  appearance  to  the  dignity  of  kings  or  patriarchs,  another 
more  resembling  brigands  of  the  desert.  The  bivouac  fires  throw 
up  their  azure-tinted  smoke  meanwhile,  which  is  trailed  by  the 
wind  over  the  river  or  over  the  gardens  of  Damascus. 

I  was  present  at  the  departure  of  Scherif-Bey.  All  the  prin¬ 
cipal  agas  of  Damascus,  and  officers  of  the  several  corps  estab¬ 
lished  in  and  around  the  town,  were  assembled  at  the  seraglio. 
The  vast  courts  encircled  by  the  dilapidated  walls  of  the  castle 
and  palace,  were  filled  with  slaves  leading  or  holding  the  most 
beautiful  horses  of  the  city,  richly  caparisoned.  Scherif-Bey 
breakfasted  in  the  interior  apartments.  I  did  not  enter  there,  but 
remained  with  some  Egyptian  and  Italian  officers  in  the  paved 
court.  Thence  we  looked  upon  the  crowd  outside;  saw  the  agas 
arrive  in  companies,  and  the  black  slaves  pass,  bearing  upon  their 
heads  immense  tin  vessels,  containing  the  several  pilaus  of  the 
repast.  The  stud  of  Scherif-Bey  was  likewise  set  out  here,  and 
certainly  comprised  the  very  finest  animals  I  had  hitherto  seen  at 
Damascus.  They  are  Tureomanian  steeds,  of  a  breed  infinite¬ 
ly  larger  and  stronger  than  the  Arabian.  They  resemble,  in  fact, 
great  Norman  horses,  with  limbs  more  supple  and  muscular,  a 
lighter  head — and  the  eye  large,  ardent,  fiery,  yet  gentle,  of  the 
Eastern  steed.  They  are  all  of  a  kind  of  bay  color,  with  long 


128 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


flowing  manes — true  Homeric  horses.  At  noon,  Scherif-Bey  took 
his  departure,  accompanied  by  an  immense  cavalcade  two  leagues 
distance  from  the  town. 

In  the  centre  of  the  great  bazaar  of  Damascus,  I  found  the 
most  beautiful  Khan  of  the  East,  that  of  Hassad-Pacha.  It  ex¬ 
hibits  an  immense  cupola,  whose  boldly-constructed  arch  reminds 
one  of  that  of  St.  Peter’s,  at  Rome.  It  is  equally  supported  by 
granite  pillars.  Behind  these  pillars  are  magazines  of  stores, 
and  flights  of  steps  conducting  to  the  upper  stories,  where  the 
chambers  of  the  merchants  are  situated — each  of  whom,  of  any 
consideration,  hires  one  of  these  rooms,  depositing  there  the  most 
valuable  of  his  merchandise,  and  his  books.  Guards  are  on  the 
watch  both  day  and  night,  to  ensure  the  security  of  the  Khan ; 
large  stables  are  provided  for  the  horses  belonging  to  travelers  or 
to  caravans ;  beautiful  fountains  spout  forth  refreshing  streams 
around  the  Khan  ;  and  in  truth,  it  may  almost  be  denominated 
the  Commercial  Exchange  of  Damascus.  The  gate  of  the  Khan 
of  Hassad-Pacha,  which  opens  upon  the  bazaar,  is  one  of  the 
richest  specimens  of  Moresque  architecture,  as  well  in  conception 
as  in  all  its  details,  and  one  of  the  most  striking  in  point  of  effect, 
to  be  seen  in  the  world.  The  Arabian  style  of  architecture  may 
there  be  recognized  in  its  full  perfection.  Nevertheless,  this  edi¬ 
fice  has  been  built  within  the  last  forty  years.  A  people  who 
possess  architects  capable  of  designing,  and  workmen  capable  of 
executing  such  a  monument  as  the  Khan  of  Hassad-Pacha,  can¬ 
not  be  characterized  as  dead  to  the  arts.  These  Khans  are  gen¬ 
erally  built  by  wealthy  Pachas,  who  bequeath  them  to  their 
families,  or  to  the  cities  which  they  are  desirous  to  enrich.  They 
yield  great  revenues. 

A  little  farther  off,  I  saw,  within  a  gate  opening  upon  the 
bazaar,  the  great  court-yard  of  the  principal  mosque  of  the  town. 
It  vvas  formerly  the  church  of  St.  John  of  Damascus.  The 
building  seemed  to  be  of  the  period  of  the,  church  of  the  Holy 
Sepulchre  at  Jerusalem — heavy,  vast,  and  of  that  Byzantine  style 
of  architecture,  which  imitates,  while  it  degrades  the  Grecian, 
and  appears  to  be  constructed  of  ruins.  The  large  doors  of  the 
mosque  were  closed  by  heavy  curtains;  nor  have  I  ever  been 
able  to  view  the  interior.  It  is  at  the  peril  of  death  that  a  Chris¬ 
tian  profanes  the  mosque,  as  they  term  it,  by  entering  therein. 
We  were  only  permitted  to  stop  a  moment  or  two  in  the  court¬ 
yard,  on  pretence  of  quenching  our  thirst  at  the  fountain. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


129 


Same  date. 

The  caravan  from  Bagdad  arrived  this  day.  It  comprised 
three  thousand  camels,  and  encamped  at  the  gates  of  the  city. 
I  bought  several  bales  of  Mocha  coffee,  such  as  I  cannot  procure 
elsewhere,  together  with  some  Indian  shawls. 

The  caravan  from  Mecca  has  been  suspended  on  account  of 
the  war.  The  Pacha  of  Damascus  is  charged  with  its  escort. 
The  Wahabites  have  several  times  dispersed  it ;  but  Mehemet 
Ali  has  driven  them  back  towards  Medina.  The  last  caravan, 
attacked  by  the  cholera  at  Mecca,  worn  down  with  fatigue  and 
destitute  of  water,  almost  wholly  perished.  No  less  than  forty 
thousand  pilgrims  were  left  behind  in  the  desert!  The  dust  of 
the  desert  surrounding  Mecca  is  in  fact  the  dust  of  men.  It  is 
hoped  that  this  year  the  caravan  will  be  more  successful  under 
the  auspices  of  Mehemet  Ali;  but  ere  many  years  have  elapsed, 
the  progress  of  the  Wahabites  will  interdict  for  ever  this  pious 
pilgrimage. 

The  Wahabites  may  be  termed  the  first  reformers  of  Mahom¬ 
etanism.  A  sage  dwelling  in  the  environs  of  Mecca,  and  named 
Aboul-W ahiab,  has  undertaken  to  restore  Islamism  to  its  original 
purity  of  faith ;  to  extirpate,  first  by  the  arguments,  then  by  the  force 
of  the  Arabs  converted  to  his  schism,  those  popular  superstitions 
— the  fruit  of  credulity  and  imposture — which  in  time  modify  all 
religions  ;  and  to  construct,  out  of  the  religion  of  the  East,  a 
practical  and  rational  Theism.  There  will  be  little  ingenuity 
necessary  to  accomplish  this;  for  Mahomet  is  not  believed  to  be 
a  God,  but  a  being  full  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  who  promulgated 
nothing  more  than  the  unity  of  God  and  charity  towards  man. 
Aboul-Wahiab  himself  is  not  taken  for  a  prophet,  but  for  a  man 
illumined  by  the  light  of  reason.  Reason  has,  in  this  instance, 
made  fanatics  of  the  Arabs  equally  with  fraud  and  superstition. 
They  have  armed  themselves  in  her  name  ;  in  her  name  have 
they  conquered  Mecca  and  Medina  ;  stripped  the  prophet’s  wor¬ 
ship  of  the  veneration  hitherto  paid  it ;  and  mustered  a  hundred 
thousand  armed  missionaries,  who  threaten  to  change  the  entire 
aspect  of  the  East.  Mehemet  Ali  has  indeed  opposed  a  momen¬ 
tary  barrier  to  their  encroachments;  but  Wahabism  still  subsists 
and  propagates  itself  in  the  three  Arabias;  and  on  the  first  op¬ 
portunity  these  purifiers  of  Islamism  will  extend  themselves  as 
far  as  Jerusalem,  Damascus,  and  even  Egypt.  Thus,  human 
creeds  are  overturned  even  by  the  very  same  means  that  were 
used  to  propagate  them.  Nothing  is  impenetrable  to  the  progres- 


130 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  PIOLY  LAND. 


sive  light  of  reason,  that  gradual  but  incessant  revelation  of 
humanity.  Mahomet  issued  from  the  same  deserts  with  the  Wa- 
habites,  to  overturn  idols  and  establish  the  pure  worship,  unde¬ 
filed  by  sacrifices,  of  one  immaterial  God.  Aboul-Wabiab  comes 
in  his  turn,  and,  striking  at  popular  credulity,  aims  at  recalling 
Mahometanism  to  pure  reason.  Every  succeeding  age  lifts  a 
corner  of  the  veil  which  hides  the  great  presence  of  the  God  of 
Gods,  and  discovers  him  behind,  under  all  those  symbols  which 
characterize  him — alone,  eternal,  evident  throughout  nature,  and 
imprinting  his  oracles  upon  the  conscience. 

Damascus,  April  3d. 

We  passed  the  day  in  traversing  the  city  and  its  bazaars. 
Remembrances  of  St.  Paul  are  always  present  to  the  Christian  of 
Damascus.  The  ruins  of  the  house  are  still  visible,  from  whence 
he  escaped  during  night,  let  down  in  a  basket.  Damascus  was 
one  of  the  first  spots  wherein  he  sowed  the  seeds  of  that  faith 
which  has  since  changed  the  world — and  these  seeds  fructified 
there  rapidly.  The  East  is  the  country  of  numerous  creeds,  of 
prodigies,  and  of  superstitions.  The  grand  idea  which  there  fills 
and  expands  the  imagination  of  all  people,  is  that  of  religion. 
Throughout,  the  manners  and  laws  of  all  the  tribes  are  founded 
on  the  religious  principle.  The  West  has  never  displayed  this — 
and  why  ?  Because  they  are  a  less  noble  race — children  of  bar¬ 
barians,  still  savoring  of  their  origin.  These  lofty  matters  are 
out  of  place  in  the  West,  where  the  lowest  of  human  feelings  and 
ideas  constantly  take  precedence  of  the  highest.  It  is  the  region 
of  gold  or  of  iron — of  agitation  and  noise.  The  East  is  the  re¬ 
gion  of  profound  meditation — of  intuition — of  adoration  !  But 
the  West  marches  forward  with  a  giant’s  step;  and  when  religion 
and  reason,  which  the  darkness  of  the  middle  ages  had  separated, 
shall  be  united  there  in  spirit  and  in  truth,  in  light  and  in  love,  the 
religious  principle  shall  germinate  on  its  shores,  and  bring  forth 
prodigies  of  virtue,  of  civilization  and  genius.  So  be  it ! 

Damascus,  April  4th. 

There  are  thirty  thousand  Christians  at  Damascus,  and  forty 
thousand  at  Bagdad.  Those  of  Damascus  are  either  Armenians 
or  Greeks.  Some  Catholic  priests  are  opposed  to  those  of  the  pre¬ 
vailing  persuasions,  and  officiate  for  the  members  of  their  own 
communion.  The  inhabitants  tolerate  a  few  Catholic  monks,  who 
adopt  the  fashion  of  their  costume,  and  are  considered  as  orien¬ 
tals.  During  my  stay  there  I  several  times  saw  two  Lazarist 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


131 


French  priests,  who  inhabit  a  little  convent  buried  in  the  poorest 
quarter  of  the  Armenians.  One  of  these,  called  Father  Poussous, 
came  to  pass  his  evenings  with  us.  He  was  a  worthy  man,  pious, 
well-informed,  and  amiable.  He  took  me  to  his  convent,  where 
he  gave  instruction  to  the  children  of  poor  Arab  Christians.  The 
pure  love  of  good  for  itself  alone  retains  in  these  deserts  men  who 
must  constantly  feel  themselves  insecure.  Father  Poussous,  ne¬ 
vertheless,  was  serene,  resigned,  and  even  gay.  From  time  to 
time  he  received,  by  the  caravans  from  Syria,  news  and  assist¬ 
ance  from  his  superiors  in  France,  together  with  some  Catholic 
journals.  He  lent  me  several  of  the  latter ;  and  nothing  ap¬ 
peared  more  strange  to  me,  than  to  read  of  the  intrigues,  political 
or  ecclesiastical,  of  the  quarter  of  St.  Sulpice,  on  the  borders  of 
the  desert  of  Bagdad,  behind  Lebanon  and  Anti-Lebanon,  in  the 
vicinity  of  Balbec,  in  the  centre  of  an  immense  throng  of  human 
beings  occupied  with  ideas  and  interests  altogether  different,  and 
where  the  names  of  our  great  men  of  the  present  day  have  never 
even  reached.  All  is  vanity  of  vanities,  except  the  service  of  the 
most  High  God  !  and  never  was  I  more  completely  impressed 
with  this  truth  than  whilst  traveling.  How  insignificant  must  be 
that  agitation,  the  progress  of  which  a  sea  can  stop — that  fame, 
the  spreading  of  which  a  mountain  can  intercept — that  renown, 
the  object  of  which  a  strange  tongue  cannot  even  correctly  name. 
Our  true  immortality  is  very  different  from  this  false  and  fleeting 
immortality  we  are  so  anxious  to  acquire  here  below. 

We  dined  to-day  with  an  old  Christian  of  Damascus,  whose 
age  exceeded  ninety  years,  but  who  still  possessed  the  full  use  of 
all  his  faculties,  physical  and  moral.  This  excellent  and  venera¬ 
ble  person  bore  in  his  countenance  abundant  marks  of  benevolence, 
serenity,  and  virtue, — those  feelings  which  smooth  the  approach 
to  its  termination  of  a  pure  and  pious  life.  He  loaded  us  with 
attentions  of  every  description,  running  about  for  us  here  and 
there  with  all  the  alacrity  of  a  young  man.  Father  Poussous  and 
his  companion,  two  merchants  of  Bagdad,  and  a  great  Persian 
signor,  who  was  on  his  road  to  Mecca,  completed  the  tranquil 
party  of  the  evening,  seated  on  the  divans  of  M.  Baudin,  and  in 
the  middle  of  vapors  of  tobacco,  which  perfumed  while  they  ob¬ 
scured  the  atmosphere.  By  the  assistance  of  M.  Baudin,  and  M. 
Mazoyer,  my  dragoman,  we  managed  to  converse  with  con¬ 
siderable  facility.  The  most  perfect  cordiality  and  singleness  of 
heart  reigned  throughout  the  entire  meeting,  among  men  from  all 
extremities  of  the  globe.  The  customs  of  India  and  Persia ;  the 


132 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


recent  events  at  Bagdad  ;  the  revolt  of  the  Pacha  against  the 
Porte  ;  these  were  the  chief  subjects  of  our  conversation.  The 
merchant  of  Bagdad  had  been  obliged  to  fly  across  the  desert  in 
forty  days,  upon  his  dromedaries,  with  his  treasures  and  two 
young  Franks.  He  was  impatiently  awaiting  news  of  his  brother, 
of  whose  safety  he  was  apprehensive ;  and  a  letter  from  this 
brother  was  brought  him  during  our  interview.  He  had  been 
fortunate  enough  to  escape  his  perils,  and  would  arrive  with  the 
rear-guard  of  the  caravan,  which  was  shortly  expected.  Our 
companion  shed  tears  of  joy  on  reading  this.  We  wept  with  him 
— both  from  the  sympathy,  and  from  thinking  of  the  difficulties  we 
might  have  to  encounter  ourselves.  These  tears,  shed  at  the 
same  time  by  eyes  which  might  never  again  gaze  on  each  other 
round  the  hearth  of  a  common  friend — in  the  midst  of  a  city 
wherein  we  were  but  passing  strangers — these  tears,  I  say,  sof¬ 
tened  our  hearts  still  further,  and  we  felt  the  emotion  of  actual 
friendship  towards  men  whose  names  even  were  destined  soon  to 
perish  from  our  remembrance. 

April  4,  1833. 

There  was  a  terrible  storm  during  the  night.  The  lofty  cham¬ 
bers  in  which  we  slept  having  numerous  unglazed  windows,  trem¬ 
bled  like  a  vessel  in  a  squall.  The  rain  has,  in  some  few  instan¬ 
ces,  dissolved  the  roofof  mud  which  form  the  terraces  above  these 
chambers,  and  inundated  the  floors.  Fortunately  our  mattresses 
were  placed  upon  platforms  raised  from  the  ground  by  large  Da¬ 
mascus  ches*  s.  The  bed-clothes  sheltered  us,  but  in  the  morning 
we  found  our  garments  floating  about  the  chambers.  These  heavy 
storms  are  frequent  at  Damascus,  and  sometimes  overturn  houses 
whose  foundations  are  not  laid  in  marble.  The  climate  is  cold 
and  humid  during  the  winter  months.  Snow  falls  abundantly  in 
the  mountains.  This  last  winter  half  of  the  bazaars  have  been 
penetrated  by  the  weight  of  the  snows,  and  the  roads  rendered 
impassable  during  two  months.  The  heats  of  summer,  on  the 
other  hand,  are,  it  is  said,  insupportable.  Up  to  the  present  time 
we  have  experienced  nothing  of  this.  Almost  every  evening  we 
light  braziers,  called  in  this  country  mangalese. 

I  bought  another  Arab  stallion  of  a  Bedouin  whom  I  met  at 
the  gate  of  the  city.  I  followed  this  cavalier,  and  contrived  to 
enter  upon  a  bargain  with  him  in  a  manner  at  once  appropriate 
and  natural.  This  animal,  smaller  in  size  than  that  1  had  pur¬ 
chased  of  the  Aga,  is  yet  stronger,  and  of  a  more  rare  color, 
namely,  that  of  the  peach-tree.  He  is  of  a  race  whose  name  sig- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


133 


nifies  king  of  the  hoof.  I  got  him  for  four  thousand  piastres, 
and  mounted,  in  order  to  try  his  paces.  He  is  not  so  gentle  as 
my  other  Arabian  steed.  His  disposition  seems,  in  fact,  savage 
and  intractable,  but  he  appears  indefatigable.  I  shall  have  Tad- 
mor  (which  is  the  Arab  name  of  Palmyra,  and  given  by  me  to  the 
horse  I  bought  of  the  Aga)  led  by  one  of  my  sais  on  foot  •  while 
I  shall  mount  Scham  during  the  route.  Scham  is  the  Arabian 
name  of  Damascus. 

A  chief  of  the  tribe  of  the  Bedouins  of  Palmyra,  whom  M.  Bau- 
din  had  summoned,  is  arrived  here.  He  is  charged  to  conduct 
me  to  Palmyra,  and  to  bring  me  back  safe  and  sound,  on  condi¬ 
tion,  however,  that  I  shall  go  alone  and  clad  as  a  Bedouin  of  the 
desert:  he  is  to  leave  his  son  as  a  hostage  at  Damascus,  during 
the  interval.  I  and  my  party  deliberate  upon  this  proposition. 
1  strongly  desired  to  see  the  ruins  of  Tadmor ;  nevertheless,  as 
they  appear  to  be  less  surprising  than  those  of  Balbec,  and  will 
take  at  least  ten  days  to  visit  and  return  from,  and  as  my  wife 
could  not  accompany  me  ;  as,  moreover,  the  time  for  regaining 
the  sea-shore  at  the  point  where  our  vessel  will  await  us,  is  ar¬ 
rived — I  made  up  my  mind  to  renounce,  although  with  regret, 
this  journey  in  the  desert,  and  we  prepared  to  depart  the  third 
day  following, 

April  6th,  1833. 

We  left  Damascus  at  eight  o’clock  a.  m.,  having  traversed 
the  town  and  its  bazaars,  which  were  encumbered  by  the  crowd. 
Heard  several  injurious  murmurs,  and  endured  sundry  oppro¬ 
brious  epithets,  which  were  vented  upon  our  party  in  consequence 
of  its  being  taken  for  recruits  about  to  join  Ibrahim.  We  issued 
from  the  city  by  a  different  gate  from  that  whereby  we  had 
entered  it:  followed  the  course  of  numerous  delicious  gardens, 
by  a  route  which  bordered  a  torrent,  and  was  overshadowed  by 
superb  trees :  climbed  up  the  mountain,  whence  we  had  enjoyed 
so  fine  a  prospect  of  Damascus  ;  halted  in  order  to  contemplate 
it  again,  and  bear  away  a  perfect  image  of  it.  I  understand  that 
Arabian  traditions  represent  this  city  and  its  neighborhood  to 
form  the  site  of  the  lost  Paradise  ;  and  certainly  I  should  think 
that  no  place  upon  earth  was  better  calculated  to  answer  one’s 
idea  of  Eden.  The  vast  and  fruitful  plain,  with  the  seven 
branches  of  the  blue  stream  which  irrigates  it;  the  majestic 
framework  of  the  mountains  ;  the  glittering  lakes  which  reflect 
the  heaven  upon  the  earth ;  its  geographical  situation  between 
the  two  seas ;  the  perfection  of  the  climate : — every  thing  indi- 

VOL.  II.  7 


134 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


cates  that  Damascus  has  at  least  been  one  of  the  first  towns  that 
were  ever  built  by  the  children  of  men — one  of  the  natural  halts 
of  fugitive  humanity  in  primeval  times.  It  is  in  fact  one  of  those 
sites  pointed  out  by  the  hand  of  God  for  a  city — a  site  predestined 
to  sustain  a  capital,  like  Constantinople.  These  are  perhaps  the 
only  two  cities  which  could  not  possibly  have  taken  their  post  in 
an  empire  from  arbitrary  selection  ;  but  which  were  palpably 
indicated  by  the  configuration  of  the  places.  So  long  as  the 
earth  shall  bear  empires  upon  her  surface,  Damascus  will  con¬ 
tinue  to  be  a  great  city,  and  Stamboul  the  metropolis  of  the  world. 
On  emerging  from  the  desert,  and  entering  on  the  plains  of  Ccelo- 
Syria,  and  the  valleys  of  Galilee,  the  caravans  of  India  need 
repose — and  they  find  a  spot  of  enchantment  at  Damascus.  Com¬ 
merce  is  there  upheld  by  industry.  Damascus  is,  like  Lyons, 
one  vast  manufactory.  Its  population,  according  to  some,  reaches 
four  hundred  thousand  souls ;  according  to  others,  only  two  hun¬ 
dred  thousand.  I  cannot  decide,  and  indeed  it  is  impossible  to  do 
so  C  one  can  only  conjecture.  In  the  East,  there  is  no  exact 
census  taken,  and  the  traveler  can  only  judge  by  the  eye.  By 
the  extent  of  the  crowd  which  inundates  the  streets  and  bazaars ; 
by  the  number  of  armed  men  who  issue  from  the  houses  on  the 
least  signal  of  revolution  or  tumult ;  and  the  extent  of  ground 
which  the  houses  cover,  I  should  myself  be  inclined  to  believe, 
that  those  who  are  inclosed  within  the  city  walls  might  number 
between  three  and  four  hundred  thousand  souls.  But  if  we  do 
not  limit  the  town  thus  arbitrarily — if  we  include  in  the  aggre¬ 
gate  of  its  population  those  who  inhabit  the  immense  faubourgs 
and  villages  which  are  confounded  to  the  eye  with  the  houses 
and  gardens  of  this  enormous  assemblage  of  human  beings,  1 
should  think  that  the  territory  of  Damascus  might  nourish  a  mil¬ 
lion.  I  cast  a  lingering  look  upon  it,  with  internal  prayers  for 
the  welfare  of  M.  Baudin,  and  the  other  excellent  men  who  pro¬ 
tected  and  enlivened  our  sojourn  there ;  and  then,  a  few  paces  of 
our  steeds  withdrew  from  our  sight  for  ever  even  the  tips  of  its 
trees,  and  of  its  minarets. 

The  Arab  who  walked  beside  my  horse  pointed  out  to  me,  on 
the  horizon,  a  large  lake  which  glittered  at  the  foot  of  a  moun¬ 
tain  ;  and  he  related  to  me  a  history  connected  therewith,  of 
which  at  the  time  I  understood  only  a  few  words,  but  which  my 
dragoman  afterwards  interpreted. 

There  was  a  herdsman,  whose  business  it  was  to  tend  camels 
lipon  the  borders  of  this  lake,  which  belonged  to  the  inhabitants 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


135 


of  a  desert  district  of  this  high  mountain.  One  day,  while  en¬ 
gaged  in  watering  his  herd,  he  perceived  that  the  water  of  the 
lake  escaped  by  a  subterranean  channel,  which  he  closed  with  a 
huge  stone,  but  at  the  same  time  let  fall  therein  his  shepherd’s 
staff.  Some  time  after,  a  stream  dried  up  in  one  of  the  provinces 
of  Persia.  The  Sultan,  seeing  this  part  of  his  dominions  threat¬ 
ened  with  famine  by  want  of  water  to  irrigate  the  land,  consulted 
the  sages  of  his  empire,  and  by  their  advice  sent  emissaries  into 
all  the  surrounding  countries  to  discover  in  what  manner  the 
source  of  his  river  had  been  diverted  or  dried  up.  These  mes¬ 
sengers  carried  with  them  the  shepherd’s  staff,  which  the  sub¬ 
terranean  channel  had  brought  to  light.  The  herdsman  chanced 
to  be  at  Damascus  when  the  emissaries  arrived  there  ;  he  recol¬ 
lected  the  staff  which  he  had  accidentally  lost,  approached,  and 
recognized  it  to  be  the  same  which  they  held  in  their  hands. 
“  What  will  the  Sultan  bestow  upon  the  man  who  will  restore  to 
him  his  flood  ?”  demanded  he. 

“  The  Sultan,”  replied  the  messengers,  “  will  bestow  on  him 
the  hand  of  his  daughter,  and  half  his  dominions.” 

“  Depart  then,”  rejoined  the  herdsman,  “  and  before  you  can 
regain  the  Sultan’s  court,  the  lost  stream  shall  flow  again  through 
the  land  of  Persia,  and  rejoice  his  royal  heart.” 

The  herdsman  repaired  to  the  mountain,  rolled  back  the  block 
of  stone,  and  the  waters,  resuming  their  course  through  the  secret 
channel,  filled  anew  the  bed  of  the  important  river.  The  Sultan 
hereupon  despatched  fresh  ambassadors,  who  conveyed  his  daugh¬ 
ter  under  their  escort  to  the  fortunate  herdsman,  who  was  also 
gifted  with  half  the  provinces  of  the  empire. 

These  marvelous  traditions  are  preserved  with  entire  faith 
among  the  credulous  Arab  populations  ;  not  one  individual  doubts 
them,  because,  in  fact,  the  imagination  doubts  nothing. 

April  7th. 

I  encamped  last  evening  under  the  brow  of  a  lofty  mountain, 
after  eight  hours’  march  through  a  country  hilly,  naked,  sterile, 
and  cold.  We  were  overtaken  by  a  caravan  less  numerous  than 
our  own.  It  was  that  of  the  Cadi  of  Damascus,  sent  every  year 
from  Constantinople,  and  who  was  on  his  return  thither,  to  embark 
at  Alexandretta.  His  wives  and  family  traveled  in  a  kind  of 
double  basket,  poised  upon  the  back  of  a  mule ;  one  woman  and 
several  little  children  occupying  each  half  of  the  receptacle,  the 
whole  being  covered  up.  This  caravan  passed  us  and  proceeded 
to  encamp  much  farther  on. 


136 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


A  rough  journey  of  ten  hours’  march  in  severe  cold,  and 
through  valleys  completely  deserted.  We  traversed,  for  one 
whole  hour,  the  bed  of  a  torrent,  wherein  large  masses  of  stone 
rolled  down  from  the  mountains,  intercepted  every  instant  the 
progress  of  our  horses.  I  mounted  for  an  hour  or  two  my  fine 
steed,  Tadmor,  in  order  to  give  rest  to  Scham.  In  spite  of  having 
undergone  two  days  of  so  fatiguing  a  route,  this  magnificent  ani¬ 
mal  sprang  forward  like  a  gazelle  over  the  rocky  footing  of  the 
desert.  In  a  moment  he  outstripped  the  fleetest  coursers  of  the 
caravan.  He  is  gentle  and  intelligent  as  a  swan,  of  which  he  has 
both  the  whiteness  and  the  grace.  I  will  carry  him  to  Europe, 
together  with  Scham  and  Saide.  As  soon  as  I  alighted,  he  es¬ 
caped  me,  and  bounded  on  to  rejoin  the  Arab,  called  Mansours, 
who  tends  and  leads  them.  He  reclined  his  head  on  his  shoulders 
like  a  fond  spaniel ;  there  is,  indeed,  as  perfect  a  fraternity  be¬ 
tween  the  Arab  and  his  horse,  as  there  is  between  us  and  the  dog. 
Mansours  and  Daher,  my  two  principal  Arab  sais,  whom  I  had 
brought  from  the  environs  of  Bayreut,  and  who  had  now  been  in 
my  service  a  year,  are  the  most  faithful  and  gentle  of  domestics ; 
steady,  indefatigable,  sagacious,  attached  to  their  masters  and  their 
steeds,  always  ready  to  encounter  with  us  an  impending  peril, — 
what  might  not  an  able  leader  achieve  with  such  a  race  of  men ! 
If  I  had  one  quarter  of  the  wealth  of  a  banker  of  Paris  or  London, 
I  would  renovate  in  ten  years  the  face  of  Syria ;  all  the  elements 
of  regeneration  are  there ;  nothing  is  wanting  but  a  hand  to  unite 
and  arrange  them,  an  eye  to  select  a  foundation,  and  a  will  to 
guide  a  people ! 

I  slept  in  a  kind  of  hostelry,  quite  isolated  upon  a  plain  :  the 
cold  was  extreme,  but  we  found  a  little  wood  and  lighted  a  fire  in 
the  low  chamber  where  we  spread  our  carpet.  Our  provisions 
brought  from  Damascus  were  exhausted  ;  we  therefore  kneaded  a 
little  barley-flour  which  had  been  destined  for  our  horses,  and  eat 
the  cakes,  which  were  bitter  and  black. 

At  daybreak  we  departed ;  and  having  traveled  for  twelve 
hours  through  a  barren  and  deserted  land,  arrived  at  a  small  vil¬ 
lage,  where  we  found  a  shelter,  some  fowls,  and  a  little  rice. 
The  rain  inundated  us  during  the  whole  day  ;  we  were  not  above 
eight  hours’  journey  from  the  route  of  the  valley  of  Beka ;  but 
we  mean  to  coast  it  by  its  eastern  extremity,  much  lower  down 
than  Balbec. 

April  7. 

Arrived  at  three  o’clock  in  the  afternoon,  in  sight  of  the  desert 
of  Beka.  Our  caravan  made  a  hesitating  halt.  The  plain,  from 


137 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


that  point  where  we  stood,  even  to  the  foot  of  Lebanon,  which 
uplifts  itself  like  a  wall  on  the  other  side,  is  one  immense  lake,  in 
the  middle  whereof  several  black-looking  islands  emerge,  while, 
in  other  places,  the  tops  of  trees  only,  rise  above  the  surface. 
Vast  antique  ruins  crown  a  hill  about  three  leagues  from  us. 
How  are  we  to  traverse,  with  no  other  guide  than  chance,  this 
inundated  plain  ?  Nevertheless,  it  is  necessary  to  move  forward 
without  delay.  To-morrow  we  may  not  be  able  to  cross  it  at  all ; 
for  the  rain  continues  to  descend,  and  the  mountain-torrents,  in  all 
directions,  launch  their  streams  into  the  hollows.  W e  accordingly 
marched  on,  for  two  hours,  upon  the  most  elevated  plain,  which 
brought  us  towards  that  hill  whereon,  as  I  have  said,  stood  the 
extensive  ruins  of  a  temple.  These  are  on  our  left  hand  :  they 
appeared  to  be  the  unknown  relics  of  some  city,  now  without 
name,  and  which  flourished  contemporaneously  with  Balbec. 
Shafts  of  gigantic  columns  have  rolled  down  the  sides  of  the  hill, 
and  lie  in  the  dirt  at  our  feet.  The  day  declined,  the  rain  in¬ 
creased,  and  we  had  not  time  to  ascend  to  the  temple. 

This  hill  being  passed,  we  could  make  no  further  progress, 
unless  in  water  up  to  our  horses’  knees.  At  every  instant,  one 
of  our  mules  slipped  and  rolled  with  his  load  of  baggage  into  the 
deep  gulfs,  whence  our  moukres  extricated  them  with  great  diffi¬ 
culty.  We  made  an  Arab  precede  us  at  the  distance  of  twenty 
paces,  in  order  to  sound  the  ground  ;  but,  when  we  had  reached 
the  middle  of  the  plain,  at  that  point  where  the  stream  of  Balbec 
hollows  its  bed,  the  soil  seemed  to  give  way  beneath  us,  and  it 
became  actually  necessary  to  swim  over  a  space  of  thirty  or 
forty  feet.  My  Arabs,  throwing  themselves  into  the  water,  and 
holding  the  horses  by  the  head,  conveyed  across  my  wife  and  an 
English  femme-de-chambre,  who  accompanied  her.  We  all  at 
length  gained  the  opposite  shore. 

Night  had  now  almost  completely  set  in.  We  hastened  to 
cross  the  rest  of  the  valley,  whilst  there  still  remained  a  glimmer¬ 
ing  of  twilight  to  guide  us.  We  passed  near  one  or  two  ruinous 
huts,  inhabited  by  a  ferocious  tribe  of  the  Arabs  of  Balbec.  Had 
they  attacked  us  at  this  juncture,  we  should  have  been  at  their 
mercy  ;  all  our  arms  being  entirely  out  of  order.  The  Arabs 
gazed  at  us  from  their  terraced  roofs,  but  descended  not  into  the 
morass.  At  the  very  moment  when  night  positively  fell  around 
as,  the  surface  of  the  ground  began  to  rise,  and  we  were,  at 
length,  high  and  dry  upon  the  extreme  borders  of  the  chain  of 
Lebanon.  We  guided  ourselves  towards  a  remote  light  which 


138 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


twinkled  at  a  distance  of  three  leagues,  from  the  verge  of  a  moun¬ 
tain  ;  it  was,  no  doubt,  from  the  town  of  Zarkley.  Overcome  with  fa¬ 
tigue,  half-frozen  with  cold,  and  wet  even  to  our  bones,  we  at  last 
succeeded  in  reaching  the  first  heights  upon  which  rises  the  town. 
There,  on  calling  over  our  muster-roll,  we  found  that  one  of  our 
friends,  M.  de  Capmas,  was  missing.  We  made  a  dead  stop ; — 
we  shouted  his  name  ;  we  fired  several  guns  ;  but  still,  no  an¬ 
swer.  We  detached  two  horsemen  to  prosecute  the  search,  and 
entered  ourselves  into  Zarkley.  It  took  us  an  hour  to  coast  a 
river  which  runs  round  the  town,  and  to  find  a  bridge  that  crosses 
it.  Our  jaded  horses  could  scarce  keep  their  footing  upon  the 
slippery  stones  of  this  bridge,  abrupt,  and  without  parapet.  At 
length,  the  house  of  the  Greek  Bishop  received  us.  We  lighted 
fires  of  brambles  in  the  huts  which  surround  the  court.  The 
bishop  lent  us  some  mats  and  carpets.  We  were  quite  exhausted. 
The  two  Arabs,  who  had  been  sent  to  seek  our  friend,  returned 
with  him  in  safety.  They  brought  him  in  half  dead,  and  placed 
him  beside  the  hearth.  He  slowly  revived.  We  found  at  the 
bottom  of  a  trunk  saturated  with  water,  a  bottle  of  rum ;  the 
bishop  provided  us  with  sugar  •  and  we  succeeded  in  reanimating 
with  some  glasses  of  punch  our  sinking  comrade.  Meanwhile, 
the  Arabs  prepared  for  us  the  pilau.  The  poor  bishop  had  literally 
nothing  more  than  a  shelter  to  offer  us  ;  but  the  curiosity  of  the 
women  and  children  of  Zarkley  was  such,  that  at  each  instant 
they  absolutely  encumbered  the  court,  and  pushed  open  the  doors 
of  our  chambers  to  gaze  on  the  two  Frank  women.  I  was  ulti¬ 
mately  obliged  to  station  two  armed  Arabs  at  the  gate  of  the 
court-yard,  to  interdict  their  entrance. 

The  next  day,  we  remained  at  Zarkley,  in  order  to  get  our 
clothes  thoroughly  dry,  and  renew  the  various  provisions  for  our 
route,  which  had  been  destroyed  by  the  inundation  of  the  pre. 
vious  evening. 

Zarkley  is  a  town  wholly  Christian,  and  founded  a  few  years 
since  in  a  mountain  gorge  upon  the  side  of  Lebanon.  It  owes  its 
rapid  and  prodigious  increase  to  the  persecuted  families  of  Ar¬ 
menian  and  Greek  Christians  of  Damascus  and  Homs.  It  counts 
from  eight  to  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  possesses  a  considerable 
traffic  in  silk,  and  is  augmenting  itself  every  day.  Under  the 
protection  of  the  Emir  Beschir,  the  Sovereign  of  Lebanon,  it  is 
no  longer  disquieted  by  the  incursions  of  the  tribes  of  Balbec  and 
Anti-Lebanon.  The  inhabitants,  industrious,  active,  and  agricul- 
tural^  till  the  heights  most  sedulously  that  descend  from  the 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


139 


mountain  into  the  plain,  and  endeavor  to  turn  to  account  even 
those  parts  of  the  desert  which  lie  next  them. 

The  aspect  of  the  town  is  very  extraordinary.  It  presents  a 
confused  assemblage  of  black  looking  houses  built  of  earth,  with¬ 
out  either  regularity  or  symmetry,  on  the  steep  sides  of  two  hil¬ 
locks  separated  by  a  stream.  The  ravine  from  whence  the  stream 
descends  before  it  flows  round  the  city  and  through  the  plain,  is  a 
large  and  deep  indentation  of  perpendicular  rocks  which  part,  as 
it  were,  to  give  passage  to  the  torrent.  It  rolls  from  platform  to 
platform,  forming  three  or  four  cascades  in  sheets  of  water,  which 
cover  all  the  breadth  of  these  natural  platforms  or  successive 
steps.  The  foam  of  the  torrent  wholly  envelopes  the  rocks,  and 
the  noise  of  the  falls  resounds  through  the  streets  of  Zarkley 
with  a  murmur  heavy  but  continual.  Several  very  neat  houses 
shine  out  from  amidst  the  verdure  of  poplars  and  lofty  vines 
above  the  cascades.  Among  them  is  the  house  of  refuge  of  our 
friend  M.  Baudin,  while  another  is  a  convent  of  Maronite  monks. 

The  river,  after  having  traversed  the  mansions  of  the  town, 
which  are  grouped  and  suspended  in  a  manner  the  most  grotesque 
on  its  precipitous  banks,  almost  indeed  hanging  over  its  bed,  pro¬ 
ceeds  to  water  the  narrow  fields  and  meadows  below,  over  which 
its  fluid  has  been  carefully  distributed  by  the  townsmen  in  a  thou¬ 
sand  rivulets.  Curtains,  as  it  were,  of  tall  Persian  poplars  stretch 
along  its  course,  and  direct  the  eye,  as  through  a  verdant  avenue, 
as  far  as  the  desert  of  Balbec  and  the  snowy  points  of  Anti-Leba¬ 
non.  Almost  all  the  inhabitants  are  either  Syriac  or  Damascene 
Greeks.  The  houses  resemble  the  miserable  huts  of  the  peasants 
of  Savoy  or  Brescia  ;  yet  each  one  has  its  shop,  or  workshop, 
where  saddlers,  armorers,  and  even  watchmakers,  pursue,  though 
with  clumsy  tools,  their  peculiar  trades. 

The  people  themselves  appeared  to  be  worthy  and  hospitable. 
The  sight  of  strangers  like  us,  so  far  from  frightening  or  amazing, 
seemed  to  be  agreeable  to  them.  They  offered  us  all  the  little 
services  that  our  situation  required,  and  were  evidently  proud  of 
the  degree  of  prosperity  which  their  town  had  attained.  Zarkley 
may  be  considered  as  a  kind  of  appendix  to  a  great  commercial 
city,  destined,  even,  one  day  to  vie  with  Damascus,  and  to  rival, 
in  the  commercial  dealings  of  its  Christian  population,  those  of 
the  Mahometan  race  of  the  larger  repertorium.  If  the  death  of 
the  Emir  Beschir  should  not  destroy  that  unity  of  sway  which 
combines  all  the  powers  of  Lebanon  under  one  chief,  Zarkley, 
some  twenty  years  hence,  will  be  the  first  town  of  Syria.  Other 


140 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


places  deteriorate  ;  but  it  increases  :  others  sleep,  but  it  labors. 
The  Greek  genius  every  where  exhibits  the  principle  of  activity 
which  is  in  the  very  blood  of  that  lively  European  race.  But  the 
activity  of  Asiatic  Greece  is  valuable  and  fruitful  ;  whereas  that 
of  Greece  of  the  Morea  and  the  Isles,  is  only  a  sterile  agitation. 
The  air  of  Asia  softens  the  blood  of  the  Greeks  :  there,  they 
always  exhibit  a  people  admirably  civilized  ;  elsewhere,  they  are 
frequently  barbarians.  It  is  the  same  with  respect  to  the  physi¬ 
cal  beauty  of  the  race.  The  Greek  women  of  Asia  are  chef- 
d’ oeuvres  of  creation  —  imagination,  grace,  and  voluptuousness 
sparkle  in  their  eyes.  The  female  Greeks  of  the  Morea  and  the 
Isles  have  fresh  looking  but  hard  features  ;  and  their  eyes,  dark 
and  fiery,  want  the  sweet  languishing  expression  which  bespeaks 
mildness  and  sensibility.  The  eyes  of  the  one  race  may  be 
likened  to  ardent  coals  ;  those  of  the  other,  to  a  lambent  flame 
veiled  by  humid  vapors. 

Same  date. 

The  poor  Greek  Bishop  of  Zarkley  is  descended  from  a  family 
of  Aleppo,  where  he  passed  his  early  life  amidst  the  elegance  and 
luxurious  efFeminacy  of  that  city,  the  Athens  of  Asia  ;  he  is,  how¬ 
ever,  here  quite  an  exile,  without  society  or  mental  resources. 
His  manners  have  preserved  that  dignity  for  which  the  inhabitants 
of  Aleppo  are  remarkable  ;  but  in  the  extreme  penury  to  which 
he  is  reduced,  he  could  offer  us  nothing  besides  the  use  of  his 
humble  dwelling.  We  spoke  Italian  with  him.  I  presented  him, 
at  parting,  with  five  hundred  piastres  for  the  use  of  the  poor  of 
his  district — -or  of  himself,  for  he  seemed  in  a  most  wretched  con¬ 
dition.  Some  Arabian  and  Greek  books  lying  in  confusion  about 
his  room,  and  an  old  trunk  containing  his  magnificent  furred  cloak 
and  his  episcopal  robes,  comprised  his  whole  riches. 

I  took  guides  at  Zarkley  to  enable  me  to  pass  Lebanon  by  an 
unknown  road,  the  ordinary  route  being  blocked  up  by  the  great 
quantity  of  snow  that  had  fallen  during  the  winter.  We  proceeded 
first  by  gentle  acclivities  over  hills  planted  with  vines  and  mul¬ 
berry  trees.  We  soon,  however,  arrived  at  the  region  of  rocks, 
and  of  torrents  without  beds,  of  which,  indeed,  we  passed  about 
thirty  in  less  than  six  hours.  These  falls  are  so  rapid  that  they 
have  not  time  to  hollow  out  a  course  for  themselves;  they  have 
the  appearance  of  a  curtain  of  foam,  gliding  over  the  naked  rock, 
and  passing  with  the  rapidity  of  the  wings  of  a  bird.  The  sky 
was  now  covered  with  clouds,  which,  although  the  day  was  but 
little  advanced,  already  intercepted  the  light ;  deluging  us  in  their 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


141 


vapory  waves  as  they  rolled  along,  and  frequently  concealing  from 
us  the  head  of  our  caravan,  thus  involved  in  darkness.  The  snow 
also  began  to  fall  in  large  flakes,  obliterating  all  traces  of  the  path, 
which  our  guides  sought  in  vain,  and  we  had  some  difficulty  in 
supporting  our  weary  horses,  whose  iron  shoes  caused  them  to  slip 
on  the  steep  ledge  which  we  were  obliged  to  follow.  The  magni¬ 
ficent  prospect  of  the  Valley  of  Balbec  beneath  us,  and  the  sum¬ 
mits  of  Anti-Lebanon,  with  the  noble  ruins  of  the  Temples  of 
Beka,  (lying  in  the  full  blaze  of  day,)  we  could  only  catch 
glimpses  of  at  short  intervals,  through  the  chinks  of  the  dividing 
clouds ;  we  appeared  to  be  sailing  in  the  heavens,  and  our  resting- 
place,  from  which  we  were  viewing  the  earth,  seemed  not  to  be¬ 
long  to  it. 

And  now  the  murmuring  winds,  that  had  slept  in  the  deep 
and  lofty  defiles  of  the  mountains,  began  to  utter  a  mournful 
sound,  as  from  beneath  the  earth,  like  the  roaring  of  a  heavy  sea 
after  a  storm.  The  gusts  passed  like  thunder-bolts,  sometimes 
over  our  heads,  and  sometimes  in  the  lower  regions,  beneath  our 
feet,  driving  before  them  as  dead  leaves,  masses  of  snow,  quanti¬ 
ties  of  stones,  and  even  large  pieces  of  rock,  with  the  same  vio¬ 
lence  wherewith  they  would  have  been  thrown  from  the  cannon’s 
mouth.  Two  of  our  horses  were  struck  by  them,  and  rolled  over 
the  precipice  :  not  one  of  us,  however,  was  touched.  My  young 
Arabian  stallions,  that  were  being  led,  seemed  petrified  with  ter¬ 
ror  ;  they  stopped  short  and  raised  their  nostrils.  They  did  not 
neigh,  but  uttered  a  guttural  cry  similar  to  the  rattling  in  a  man’s 
throat.  We  walked  close  together,  both  for  the  sake  of  mutual 
protection,  and  that  we  might  the  more  easily  afford  each  other 
assistance  in  the  event  of  an  accident. 

The  night  grew  darker  and  darker  ;  and  the  snow,  which 
beat  in  our  eyes,  deprived  us  of  the  little  light  which  might  still 
have  directed  us.  The  whirlwind  filled  all  the  defile  in  which 
we  were  with  snow,  which,  turning  rapidly  round,  rose  in  columns 
to  the  sky,  and  fell  again  in  immense  sheets,  like  the  foam  of  a 
huge  wave  upon  the  rocks  beneath.  There  were  times  when  it 
was  impossible  to  breathe  ;  our  guides  stopped  every  instant ; 
hesitated,  and  discharged  their  muskets  as  signals  to  us  ;  but  the 
furious  wind  would  allow  nothing  to  be  heard,  and  the  sound  of 
our  arms  resembled  the  light  crack  of  a  whip. 

In  proportion,  however,  as  we  advanced  farther  into  this  lofty 
defile  of  the  highest  regions  of  Lebanon,  we  heard,  with  consider¬ 
able  alarm,  a  deep,  continued  low  roar,  which  increased  from 

VOL.  ii.  7* 


142 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


time  to  time,  and  formed,  as  it  were,  the  bass  of  this  horrible  con¬ 
cert  of  warring  elements.  It  seemed  as  if  a  part  of  the  mountain 
had  fallen  and  was  rolling  down  like  a  torrent  of  rocks.  The 
thick  cloud,  touching  the  very  ground,  hid  every  thing  from  us, 
and  we,  therefore,  knew  not  where  we  were  ;  when  we  saw  pass 
suddenly  by  us  horses  without  riders,  mules  without  burthens, 
and  several  camels,  who  were  flying  down  the  snowy  side  of  the 
mountain.  These  were  quickly  followed  by  some  Arabs,  who, 
calling  out  to  us,  directed  us  to  stop,  showing  us  at  the  same  time, 
with  their  hands,  at  forty  or  fifty  paces  beneath  us,  a  ruinous 
cottage  built  against  a  rock,  which  the  clouds  had  hitherto  con- 
cealed  from  us.  A  column  of  smoke,  and  the  glimmer  of  a  fire, 
were  to  be  seen  through  the  door  of  this  cabin,  the  roof  of  which, 
of  enormous  branches  of  cedar,  had  just  been  half  carried  away 
by  the  hurricane,  and  was  now  hanging  against  the  wall.  This, 
the  dwelling  of  Murat-Bey,  was  the  only  asylum  that  we  could 
procure  on  this  part  of  Lebanon.  A  poor  Arab  inhabits  it  dur¬ 
ing  the  summer,  to  offer  barley  and  a  shelter  to  the  caravans  of 
Damascus,  which  pass  by  this  route  into  Syria. 

We  descended  thither  with  some  difficulty,  by  means  of  steps 
cut  in  the  rock,  but'now  covered  a  foot  deep  with  snow.  The 
torrent,  which  flowed  a  hundred  paces  beneath  the  cottage,  and 
which  we  had  to  cross  in  order  to  ascend  to  the  highest  region  of 
the  mountains,  had  become  all  at  once  an  immense  river,  hurry¬ 
ing  along  with  it  huge  masses  of  stone,  and  the  wrecks  of  the 
tempest.  Surprised  on  its  banks  by  the  whirlwind,  and  half 
buried  in  snow,  the  Arabs  whom  we  met  had  taken  the  burthens 
from  their  camels  and  mules,  and  had  left  them  on  the  spot,  to 
save  themselves  at  the  cottage  of  Murat.  We  found  it,  indeed, 
filled  with  these  men  and  their  beasts  ;  no  space  was  left  either 
for  us  or  our  horses ;  nevertheless,  sheltered  by  the  projection  of 
rock,  which  was  larger  than  a  house,  we  felt  the  wind  less,  and 
the  clouds  of  snow,  hurried  from  the  summit  of  Lebanon,  and 
passing  over  our  heads  in  their  progress  to  the  plain,  began  to  fall 
less  heavily,  and  allowed  us  to  perceive  at  intervals,  a  small  por¬ 
tion  of  the  sky  where  the  stars  were  already  glittering.  The 
wind  soon  after  altogether  fell ;  we  dismounted  and  endeavored 
to  construct  a  shelter  in  which  we  might  pass,  not  only  the  night, 
but  perhaps  many  days,  if  the  torrent,  which  we  heard  without 
seeing  it,  should  continue  to  obstruct  the  passage. 

Beneath  the  walls  of  the  cabin,  and  under  shelter  of  a  part  of 
the  branches  of  cedar  which  had  formed  the  roof,  there  was  a 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


143 


space  of  ten  feet  square  covered  up  with  snow  and  mud.  We 
swept  away  the  snow,  but  there  still  remained  a  foot  of  soft  mire 
on  which  we  could  not  place  our  carpets  ;  we  therefore  drew  from 
the  roof  some  branches  of  trees  which  we  laid  like  a  hurdle  upon 
the  saturated  ground,  and  which  thus  prevented  our  mats  from 
becoming  soaked  in  the  water ;  our  mattresses,  our  carpets,  and 
our  cloaks  formed  a  second  flooring ;  we  lighted  a  fire  in  one  cor¬ 
ner  of  our  retreat,  and  thus  we  passed  the  long  night  between  the 
/th  and  8th  of  April,  1833.  From  time  to  time  the  hurricane, 
which  had  been  hushed,  again  rose ;  the  mountain  seemed  about 
to  tumble  to  pieces :  the  enormous  rock  against  which  the  cottage 
had  been  built,  trembled  like  the  trunk  of  a  tree  shaken  by  a  gust 
of  wind,  and  the  torrent  seemed  to  fill  all  space  with  its  continued 
roar.  We  contrived,  however,  to  get  to  sleep  at  last,  and  were 
awakened  at  a  late  hour  the  following  day  by  the  dazzling  rays 
of  an  unclouded  sun  upon  the  snow.  The  Arabs,  our  compan¬ 
ions,  had  departed  ;  they  had  made  the  passage  of  the  torrent  in 
safety,  and  we  perceived  them  at  a  distance  climbing  the  hills 
over  which  we  had  to  follow  them.  We  now  set  out  ourselves, 
and  walked  for  four  hours  through  a  lofty  valley,  where,  as  on 
the  summit  of  Mont  Blanc,  we  saw  nothing  but  the  snow  beneath 
our  feet,  and  the  sky  above  our  heads.  The  dazzling  effect  upon 
our  eyes,  the  dead  silence,  and  the  danger  that  attended  each  step 
as  we  advanced  over  these  deserts  of  newly  fallen  snow  (where 
not  a  trace  of  path  was  to  be  found),  induced  a  solemn  and  reli¬ 
gious  train  of  thought,  as  we  traversed  these  lofty  pillars  of  the 
earth,  the  spine  as  it  were  of  a  continent.  We  looked  involunta¬ 
rily  towards  each  point  of  the  horizon  and  of  the  heavens,  and 
every  phenomenon  of  nature  attracted  our  attention  ;  one,  indeed, 
presented  an  appearance  which  I  had  never  before  observed. 
Suddenly,  at  the  summit  of  Lebanon,  against  the  side  of  a  pro¬ 
jection  half  shaded  from  the  morning  sun,  I  beheld  a  magnificent 
rainbow,  not  thrown  up  like  an  airy  bridge,  uniting  the  mountain- 
top  with  the  heavens,  but  lying  upon  the  snow  in  concentric  cir¬ 
cles,  like  a  serpent  of  most  dazzling  colors  ;  it  was  like  a  rain- 
bow-nest  surprised  on  the  most  inaccessible  ridge  of  Lebanon. 
As  the  sun  rose  and  fell  upon  the  white  projection,  the  circles  of 
the  rainbow,  of  a  thousand  mingling  hues,  appeared  to  be  dis¬ 
turbed  and  to  rise.  The  extremity  of  these  luminous  volutes 
springing  in  effect  from  the  earth,  mounted  some  fathoms  towards 
heaven,  as  if  it  essayed  to  lance  itself  toward  the  sun,  and  de¬ 
scended  again  in  light-colored  vapor  and  liquid  pearls,  which  fell 


144 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND* 


thick  around  us.  We  seated  ourselves  there,  in  this  region  of 
snow,  in  order  to  dry  before  the  sun  our  miry  shoes.  We  had 
begun  to  perceive  the  deep  and  black  valleys  of  the  Maronites  y 
and  in  two  hours  descended  to  the  village  of  Hamana,  situated  at 
the  head  of  the  magnificent  valley  of  that  name,  and  where  we 
had  already  reposed  ourselves  on  our  way  to  Damascus.  The 
Scheik  appropriated  to  our  use  three  houses  of  the  village.  The 
evening  sun  gilded  the  broad  leaves  of  the  fig  and  mulberry  trees  ; 
husbandmen  trailed  along  their  ploughs;  women  and  children 
were  promenading  in  the  different  roads  between  the  houses,  and 
saluted  us  with  a  smile  of  hospitality.  Animals  paced  over  the 
fields;  pigeons  and  fowls  covered  the  terrace  roofs;  and  the 
clocks  of  two  Maronite  churches  jingled  heavily  through  the  tops 
of  the  cypresses,  ringing  in  order  to  announce  the  pious  ceremo¬ 
nies  of  the  morrow,  which  was  Sunday.  All  pictured,  in  a  word, 
the  aspect,  the  sounds,  and  the  tranquillity  of  a  little  quiet  village 
in  France  or  Italy  and  the  effect  was  strange,  recognizing  the 
resemblance  immediately  on  issuing  from  the  precipices  of  Le¬ 
banon,  the  deserts  of  Balbec,  and  the  inhospitable  streets  of 
Damascus.  Never,  perhaps,  was  there  transition  so  rapid,  so 
agreeable*  We  resolved  to  pass  the  Sunday  among  this  inter¬ 
esting  and  worthy  people,  and  to  repose  during  that  entire  day 
after  our  long  fatigues. 

The  day  was  accordingly  passed  at  Hamana.  The  Scheik 
partially  furnished  us  with  provisions,  and  some  purchases  at  the 
market  rendered  our  stock  abundant.  The  females  of  Hamana 
came  to  visit  us  consecutively  throughout  the  day.  They  are  far 
less  handsome  than  the  Syrians  who  dwell  near  the  sea-shore* 
They  constitute  a  pure  Maronite  race — have  all  the  appearance 
of  strength  and  health — but  their  features  are  too  marked  ;  the 
eye,  likewise,  somewhat  hard ;  the  complexion  rather  too  ruddy. 
Their  costume  consists  of  white  pantaloons,  or  trowsers,  andr 
above  these,  a  long  robe  of  blue  cloth,  open  in  front,  and  leaving 
the  bosom  bare  :  necklaces,  formed  of  innumerable  piastres,  adorn 
the  neck,  and  fall  over  the  throat,  and  even  as  low  as  the  shoul¬ 
ders.  The  married  women  complete  this  costume  by  a  silver 
horn,  about  a  foot  in  circumference,  and  sometimes  a  foot  and  a. 
half  in  length  ;  and  this  they  fix  upon  their  twisted  hair,  and  it. 
rises  over  the  forehead  a  little  obliquely.  This  horn,  sculptured 
or  carved,  is  attached  to  the  extremity  of  a  muslin  veil  which  is 
suspended  thence,  and  occasionally  conceals  the  countenance. 
They  never  lay  aside  this  ornamental  horn,  even  during  sleep. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


145 


This  peculiar  custom,  however,  whereof  one  cannot  decipher  the 
exact  meaning  or  origin- — which  can  be  only  traceable  to  the 
vagaries  of  the  human  intellect — disfigures  them  not  a  little,  and 
gives  a  heaviness  to  all  the  movements  of  the  head  and  neck. 

April  9th. 

We  quitted  Hamana  at  five  o’clock,  a.  m.,  on  a  morning  veiled 
in  mists,  and  traveled,  for  two  hours,  over  the  steep  declivities  and 
high  ridges  of  Lebanon,  descending  towards  the  plains  of  Syria. 
The  valley,  which  we  leave  on  the  right,  hollows  and  enlarges 
itself  more  and  more  under  oar  feet.  It  might  be  there  about  two 
leagues  in  breadth,  and  one  league,  at  least,  in  depth.  The  trans¬ 
parent  waves  of  morning  vapor  moved  softly,  like  waves  of  the 
sea,  throughout  the  prospect,  and  left  nothing  visible  above  them 
but  the  high  points  of  mamelons,  the  heads  of  cypresses,  and  some 
turrets  of  villages,  or  of  Maronite  monasteries.  Soon,  however, 
the  sea-breeze,  which  mounted  insensibly  with  the  sun,  unrolled 
gradually  all  these  vaporous  waves,  turning  them  back  in  white 
masses,  to  be  confounded  with  the  snowy  summits  upon  which  they 
lie,  in  the  form  of  light  gray  spots. 

The  valley  is  now  fully  disclosed.  Why  has  not  the  eye  a 
language  qualified  to  paint  by  a  single  word  as  it  sees  by  a  single 
glance  ?  I  would  wish  to  preserve  eternally  in  my  memory  the 
incomparable  scenes  and  impressions  of  the  Valley  of  Hamana. 
I  stand  above  one  of  the  thousand  torrents  which  furrow  its  sides 
with  their  bounding  foam  ;  and  behold  through  its  masses  of  rock, 
the  hanging  meadows,  the  cypress  clumps,  the  groves  of  poplars, 
the  wild  grapes,  and  black  carobs,  which  run  even  to  the  depths 
of  the  valley,  adorning  there  the  central  stream  which  flows 
through  its  entire  length.  The  valley  is  so  deep  that  my  eye  can¬ 
not  penetrate  to  its  bottom.  I  only  hear,  at  intervals,  the  mingled 
roaring  of  its  waters  and  leaves ;  the  lowing  of  its  herds  ;  and 
the  distant  and  silvery  sound  of  its  monastery  bells.  The  morn¬ 
ing  mist  is  still  wrinkled  over  the  deep  bed  of  the  gorge  which 
bounds  the  principal  torrent.  Here  and  there,  winding  around 
several  high  mounds,  I  perceived  the  white  line  of  foam  which  it 
traces  in  this  dark  shade.  From  the  same  side  of  the  valley  at 
which  we  stand,  I  see  arise,  at  about  a  quarter  of  a  league  dis¬ 
tance  from  one  another,  three  or  four  large  platforms,  resembling 
natural  pedestals.  Their  sides,  very  steep,  are  of  a  grayish 
granite.  These  platforms,  of  the  circumference  of  about  half  a 
league,  are  entirely  clothed  with  forests  of  cedar,  fir,  and  umbrel- 


146 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


la-shaped  pines,  with  large  tops.  One  may  distinguish  huge 
branches  shooting  from  these  trees,  between  which  the  morning 
light  circulates  and  plays.  Their  black  and  motionless  leaves  are 
intersected  here  and  there  by  light  columns  of  blue  smoke,  rising 
from  the  cabins  of  Maronite  laborers,  and  by  little  stone  ogives, 
within  which  the  village  clocks  are  hung.  Two  large  monaste¬ 
ries,  whose  walls  shine  like  copper,  are  built  upon  two  platforms 
of  pines.  They  are  not  unlike  fortresses  of  the  middle  ages. 
One  sees,  underneath,  convents,  and  Maronite  monks,  clothed  in 
their  black  capuchins,  who  labor  between  the  stocks  of  vines  and 
huge  chestnut  trees.  Two  or  three  villages,  grouped  around 
rocky  mamelons,  are  visible  still  lower  down,  like  bee-hives  clus¬ 
tered  about  the  trunks  of  old  trees.  Beside  every  cottage  some 
tufts  of  pale  verdure  appear  ;  these  are  pomegranates,  figs,  or 
olive  trees,  which  begin  to  fructify  at  the  depth  of  the  valley. 
The  eye  loses  itself,  at  length,  in  the  impenetrable  shade  of  the 
bottom  of  the  gorge.  If  we  lift  our  regard  beyond  this  ravine, 
upon  the  opposite  side  of  the  mountain,  we  perceive,  in  some  parts, 
perpendicular  walls  of  rocky  granite,  which  almost  pierce  the 
clouds.  Above  these  natural  walls  are  patches  of  the  most  lovely 
vegetation,  high  summits  of  firs,  hanging  over  the  chasms  below, 
immense  heads  of  sycamores,  looking  like  huge  spots  on  the  face 
of  heaven  ;  and,  again,  behind  these  pinnacles  of  vegetation, 
steeples  belonging  to  villages  or  monasteries,  whereto  one  cannot 
even  imagine  any  access. 

In  other  places,  the  granite  sides  of  the  mountains  are  broken 
into  wide  cavities,  where  the  sight  is  lost  in  the  obscurity  of  for¬ 
ests,  and  nothing  can  be  distinguished  save  certain  luminous 
points,  which  are,  in  fact,  the  beds  of  torrents  and  of  little  lakes. 
Elsewhere,  the  rocks  altogether  disappear  :  immense  circular 
bastions  flank  them,  like  eternal  fortifications,  and  terminate  at 
their  angles  in  towers  and  turrets.  Elevated  valleys,  which  the 
eye  can  scarcely  fathom,  sink  or  emerge  amidst  ramparts  of 
snow  or  wood ;  and  here  descends  the  principal  torrent  of  Hama- 
na,  which  one  sees  at  first  rushing  like  a  vast  gutter  of  snow, 
then  losing  itself  in  a  huge  basin,  resounding  with  cascades, 
where  it  is  divided  into  seven  or  eight  shining  branches,  after¬ 
wards  vanishing  behind  black  masses,  to  re-appear  in  one  single 
strip  of  foam,  which  bends  and  unbends  itself  according  to  the 
sinuosities  of  the  ground,  over  the  slow  or  rapid  declivities  of  the 
hills.  It  plunges,  at  length,  into  the  principal  valley,  whereinto 
it  falls  in  a  cascade  of  one  hundred  paces  broad,  and  two  hun- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


147 


dred  feet  high.  Its  foam,  which  rebounds  up  again,  and  which  the 
wind  blows  here  and  there,  covers  with  floating  rainbows  the 
crests  of  the  huge  pines  which  border  the  fall. 

At  our  left,  the  valley,  in  descending  towards  the  sea-shore, 
expanded  itself,  and  exhibited  to  the  eye  the  sides  of  its  hills  more 
woody  and  better  cultivated :  its  river  serpentining  between 
mamelons  crowned  with  monasteries  and  hamlets.  Farther  off, 
the  palm  trees  uplift  themselves  behind  low  hillocks  covered  with 
olive  trees,  displaying  their  tufts  of  yellow  green,  and  intersecting 
the  long  line  of  golden  sand  which  borders  the  sea.  The  eye  is 
at  length  lost  in  the  uncertain  distance — uncertain  whether  sea  or 
sky. 

The  details  of  this  magnificent  ensemble ,  are  no  less  attractive 
than  the  general  coup  d’ceil.  At  each  winding  of  the  rocks,  at 
each  summit  of  the  hills  whither  the  path  conducts  the  traveler, 
he  perceives  a  new  prospect, — wherein  waters,  trees,  rocks,  the 
ruins  of  bridges  or  aqueducts,  snow,  sea,  and  the  fiery  sand  of  the 
desert,  all  are  mingled  in  some  unexpected  manner,  drawing  forth 
an  exclamation  of  surprise  and  delight.  I  have  seen  Naples  and 
its  islands,  with  the  valleys  of  the  Alps  and  the  Apennines,  in  Sa¬ 
voy  or  in  Switzerland ; — but  the  valley  of  Hamana  and  some 
others  scattered  about  Lebanon,  effaced  the  recollection  of  all 
these.  The  hugeness  of  the  masses  of  rock  ;  the  multiplied  wa¬ 
terfalls  ;  the  purity  and  depth  of  the  heavens ;  the  prospect  of 
vast  seas  bounding  the  horizon  in  every  direction  ;  the  picturesque 
appearance  of  the  hamlets  and  convents,  perched  like  human 
nests  upon  heights  whither  the  regard  almost  dreads  to  follow 
them  ;  in  a  word,  the  sense  of  novelty  induced  by  the  color,  some¬ 
times  dark,  sometimes  light,  of  the  vegetation, — the  majesty  of 
the  venerable  trees,  many  of  whose  trunks  resemble  columns  of 
granite, — all  this  combined,  colors,  as  it  were,  and  solemnizes  the 
country,  and  stirs  the  soul  with  emotions  far  more  profound  and 
religious  than  do  the  Alps  themselves.  It  may  be  remarked,  that 
no  region  can  be  considered  perfect  that  does  not  possess  a  sea- 
coast.  Here  the  ocean,  the  desert,  and  the  heavens  form  the 
frame  work  of  this  sublime  picture  :  and  the  ravished  eye  glances 
eternally  from  the  depth  of  forests,  from  the  umbrageous  banks  of 
rivulets,  from  the  summit  of  aerial  peaks,  or  from  the  tranquil 
scenes  of  rural  or  cenobitical  life,  to  the  blue  sea  ploughed  by 
ships,  to  the  naked  height  of  snowy  rocks,  or  to  the  yellow  waves 
of  the  desert,  where  the  caravans  of  camels  describe  afar  off  their 
sinuous  route.  Such  is  this  incessant  contrast,  which  gives  birth 


148 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


to  a  whole  host  of  thoughts  and  ideas,  and  solemn  impressions  of 
heaps  of  stone,  of  poetry,  and  of  severe,  yet  glowing  beauty. 

Same  date. 

At  noon,  we  encamped  under  our  tents,  on  the  mid-heights  of 
Lebanon,  to  let  pass  the  extreme  heat  of  the  day.  They  brought 
me  an  Arab  courier,  who  was  on  his  way  to  seek  me  at  Damas¬ 
cus.  He  put  into  my  hands  a  packet  of  letters,  arrived  from  Eu¬ 
rope,  which  announced,  among  other  things,  my  nomination  to 
the  Chamber  of  Deputies.  This  was  a  new  source  of  annoyance 
added  to  all  the  others.  Unfortunately  I  had  aspired  to  this  dis¬ 
tinction  at  another  period,  myself  soliciting  a  mark  of  confidence, 
which  I  could  not,  without  ingratitude,  now  decline.  I  will  ac¬ 
cept  it,  and  go.  But  oh  !  how  much  do  I  now  wish  that  this  cup 
might  pass  far  from  me.  The  future  presents  nothing  to  me,  in¬ 
dividually,  in  this  drama  of  the  social  and  political  world,  whose 
principal  scene  is  acted  amongst  the  French.  I  have  none  of 
those  aspirations  for  glory  and  fortune  which  constitute  the  im¬ 
pulsive  force  of  public  men.  The  only  interest  which  I  shall  take 
in  their  stormy  deliberations  will  be  the  common  interest  of  the 
country  and  of  humanity.  There  are  indeed  abstract  existences 
to  men  who  would  possess  the  present  hour  alone,  and  bring  about 
at  any  price,  the  aggrandizement  of  family,  of  caste,  or  of  party. 
How  can  the  calm  and  impartial  voice  of  philosophy  be  heard 
amongst  the  tumult  of  conflicting  and  contradictory  facts  and 
opinions  1  Who  is  he  that  can  penetrate  the  future,  and  define 
its  boundaries,  behind  the  dust  raised  by  actual  warfare  ?  No 
matter :  man  chooses  neither  his  own  path,  nor  his  own  work. 
God  assigns  him  his  task,  according  to  his  circumstances  and  his 
convictions: — it  must  be  accomplished.  But  I  can  foresee,  for 
myself,  nothing  but  a  moral  martyrdom  in  the  melancholy  duty 
now  imposed  upon  me. 

I  was  born  for  action.  Poetry,  in  me,  is  but  action  modi¬ 
fied.  I  have  thought,  and,  in  the  absence  of  other  power,  have 
expressed  in  words  my  ideas  and  sentiments.  But  now,  activity 
solicits  me  no  longer.  I  have  too  deeply  proved  the  value  of 
sublunary  things  not  to  estimate  them  thoroughly.  I  have  lost  too 
many  of  the  beings  whom  my  active  life  could  interest,  not  to  be 
deprived  of  all  personal  stimulus  to  exertion.  A  life  of  contem¬ 
plation,  of  philosophy,  of  poetry,  and  solitude,  will  form  the  only 
resting-place  for  my  heart  before  it  is  finally  broken. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


149 


April  10th,  1833. 

Return  to  Bnyreut,  and  the  visit  to  the 
Cedars  of  Solomon. 

We  arrived  here  yesterday,  and  I  passed  two  hours  in  the 
convent  of  the  Franciscans,  at  that  tomb  in  which  all  my  future 
hopes  lie  buried.  There  are  no  tidings  of  the  Alceste,  which  is 
to  convey  these  precious  remains  to  France,  and  I  have  freighted 
another  vessel  for  our  own  conveyance.  We  shall  sail  in  com¬ 
pany  ;  but  the  mother  will  at  least  be  spared  the  pain  of  being  in 
the  same  apartment  with  the  body  of  her  child.  We  intend  visit¬ 
ing  Kesrouan,  Tripoli  in  Syria,  Latakia,  Antioch,  and  the 
Cedars  of  Lebanon,  which  tower  on  the  summits  of  the  mountains 
behind  Tripoli,  whilst  Captain  Coulonne  is  making  the  necessary 
preparations  for  the  reception  of  so  numerous  a  party.  Our  many 
friends  here  have  visited  us  this  morning  :  namely,  the  governor, 
a  Maronite  Prince  ;  Habib  Barbara,  our  country  neighbor,  who 
has  treated  us  since  our  arrival,  and  more  especially  since  our 
affliction,  with  the  zeal  of  true  friendship  ;  M.  Borneo,  the  Sar¬ 
dinian  Consul,  and  M.  Borda,  a  young  and  amiable  Piedmontese, 
brought  by  the  caprice  of  fortune  to  the  deserts  of  the  East,  (as  an 
associate  in  the  religious  mission  here,)  when  his  education, 
character,  and  taste,  qualify  him  to  shine  as  a  diplomatist  in  the 
most  polished  courts  of  Europe  ;  M.  Laurella,  the  Austrian  con¬ 
sul  ;  M.  Farren,  the  consul-general,  and  M.  Abbot,  special  consul 
from  England  to  Syria;  a  young  French  merchant,  named 
Humann,  from  whose  company  we  have  derived  equal  advantage 
and  pleasure  during  our  sojourn  here  ;  M.  Caille,  the  French 
traveler  ;  M.  Jorelle,  first  interpreter  to  the  consulship  ; — this 
yo.ung  man,  educated  in  France,  was  brought  early  to  the  East, 
and  is  complete  master  of  Turkish  and  Arabic — upright,  active, 
intelligent,  and  full  of  natural  courtesy,  to  oblige  another  is  to  ob¬ 
lige  himself.  Lastly,  M.  Guys,  the  French  consul  to  Syria,  a 
worthy  representative  of  our  national  honor  in  these  countries, 
where  his  character  commands  the  respect  ofthe  Arabs,  but  who 
has  only  recently  come  here,  and  with  whom  of  course  we  are  not 
so  well  acquainted  as  with  his  colleagues. 

I  transcribe  all  these  various  names  of  individuals  who  have 
loaded  us  with  favors  during  a  year’s  residence  among  them, 
that  I  may  be  ever  reminded  of  the  respective  debt  of  gratitude  I 
owe  to  each.  Were  it  not  for  the  letter  I  received  yesterday — 
were  it  not  for  the  recollection!  of  my  aged  father,  which  is  ever 
present  to  my  mind,  recalling  me  to  France, — if  I  had  to  select  a 


150 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


place  of  exile  in  this  world  wherein  to  end  my  earthly  pilgrimage, 
it  is  here  that  I  would  make  that  selection,  in  the  bosom  of  soli¬ 
tude  and  the  beauties  of  nature. 

April  30th,  1833. 

We  started  this  morning;  at  four  o’clock  with  the  same  cara- 
van  I  had  got  together  at  Damascus ;  took  the  sea-shore  as  far  as 
Cape  Batroun — a  route  previously  described — and  slept  at  Djebail, 
in  a  khan  outside  of  the  city,  and  which  lies  on  a  rising  ground 
overlooking  the  sea.  All  that  is  worthy  of  note  in  this  town  is  a 
mosque  of  Christian  architecture,  and  which,  it  is  probable,  was 
originally  a  church  built  by  the  counts  of  Tripoli.  Djebail  is 
supposed  to  be  the  country  of  the  ancient  Gibbites,  who  supplied 
King  Hiram  with  blocks  of  stone  for  the  building  of  the  Temple 
of  Solomon. 

The  father  of  Adonis  had  a  palace  here  ;  and  the  worship  of  the 
sun  constituted  the  religion  of  all  the  neighboring  country  of  Syria. 
To  the  left  of  the  town  is  a  castle  remarkable  both  for  its  elegance 
and  the  science  with  which  its  several  fortifications  have  been 
planned.  We  went  into  the  town  to  view  the  harbor,  in  which 
floated  some  Arab  barks.  The  inhabitants  are  almost  exclusively 
Maronites.  A  beautiful  Arab  lady,  richly  dressed,  paid  my  wife 
a  visit  in  the  caravansary,  and  we  made  her  some  trifling  presents. 
On  the  next  day  we  continued  to  follow  the  sea-shore,  which 
formed  indeed  the  base  of  the  mountains  of  Castravan,  and  wo 
slept  under  our  tents,  in  a  delightful  situation,  on  the  confines  of 
the  territory  of  Tripoli.  Here  the  road  leaves  the  coast,  and 
taking  a  sudden  turn  to  the  right,  plunges  into  a  narrow  valley, 
through  which  runs  a  rivulet.  About  a  league  from  the  sea,  the 
valley  contracts  and  is  completely  shut  in  by  a  rock,  fully  a 
hundred  feet  high,  and  from  five  to  six  hundred  feet  in  circum¬ 
ference.  This  rock,  whether  it  be  natural  or  hewn  out  of  the  side 
of  the  mountain  which  adjoins  it,  bears  on  its  summit  a  Gothic 
castle,  in  a  state  of  complete  preservation,  but  the  abode  of  the 
jackal  and  eagle ;  staircases,  cut  out  of  the  rock  itself,  commu¬ 
nicate  with  terraces,  ranged  one  above  another,  protected  by  towers 
and  battlements,  and  terminated  in  a  platform,  whence  rises  up 
the  donjon-keep,  pierced  with  loop-holes.  A  luxuriant  vegetation 
covers  the  castle,  its  walls,  and  turrets  ;  immense  sycamores  have 
struck  root  in  its  halls,  and  rear  their  spreading  heads  above 
the  crumbling  roof : — the  ivy  clinging  to  doors  and  windows  ;  the 
lichens  revealing  here  and  there  the  colors  of  the  stone  ;  and  the 
numberless  parasitic  plants  which  hang  in  profuse  and  tufted 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


151 


festoons,  give  this  fine  monument  of  the  middle  ages  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  a  castle  framed  of  moss  and  ivy.  A  beautiful  spring 
flows  at  the  foot  of  the  rock,  shaded  bv  three  of  the  finest  trees  that 
can  be  imagined.  They  are  a  species  of  elm.  The  shadows  of 
one  of  them  shielded  our  tents,  our  thirty  horses,  and  the  scattered 
groups  of  our  Arabs. 

The  next  day  wTe  ascended  a  rising  ground,  on  whose  white 
and  slippery  sides  our  horses  could  scarcely  keep  footing.  Its 
summit  displays  a  boundless  prospect  of  all  the  western  shore  of 
Syria,  as  far  as  the  Gulf  of  Alexandria  ;  of  Mount  Taurus,  and 
a  little  to  the  right,  the  Plains  of  Aleppo,  and  the  Hills  of  Antioch, 
with  the^course  of  the  Orontes.  From  this  spot,  three  hours’  jour¬ 
ney  took  us  to  the  gates  of  Tripoli,  where  we  were  expected  ;  and 
when  about  a  league  from  the  town,  we  were  received  by  a  party 
of  young  Frank  merchants,  of  different  nations,  and  by  some 
officers  of  Ibrahim’s  army,  who  had  come  to  meet  us.  A  son  of 
M.  Lombart,  a  French  merchant  settled  at  Tripoli,  requested  us, 
from  his  father,  to  make  his  house  our  home  ;  hut  being  unwilling 
to  trespass  upon  him,  we  repaired  to  the  Franciscan  convent, 
which  we  found  inhabited  by  one  monk  only,  who  gave  us  a 
hearty  welcome.  We  spent  two  days  at  Tripoli,  and  dined  with 
M.  Lombart,  in  whose  house  we  met  with  a  family  ever  ready  to 
extend  its  hospitality  to  a  countryman.  In  the  evening  we  went 
for  an  hour  tokhe  abode  of  Messrs.  Katchiflisse,  Greek  merchants, 
and  consuls  for  Russia,  whose  family  has  been  established  in 
Tripoli  from  time  immemorial,  and  have  a  handsome  palace 
there.  Madame  Katchiflisse,  and  her  two  daughters,  are  cele¬ 
brated  throughout  Syria  for  their  beauty  and  the  charm  of  their 
manners,  in  which  are  exquisitely  blended  the  Asiatic  reserve, 
the  charming  freedom  of  the  Greeks,  and  the  finished  politeness 
of  the  most  elegant  of  our  European  females.  They  received  us 
in  a  large  vaulted  apartment,  lighted  by  a  cupola,  and  cooled  by 
a  fountain  of  running  water.  They  were  seated  on  a  semicircu¬ 
lar  divan,  which  occupied  the  extremity  of  the  room,  and  the 
whole  was  covered  with  rich  carpets,  strewed  with  sherbet,  pipes, 
and  vases  of  flowers;  and,  clad  in  their  Oriental  costume,  these 
ladies  presented,  in  their  different  styles  of  beauty,  the  completest 
picture  on  which  the  eye  of  man  could  fall.  We  spent  a  delight¬ 
ful  evening  in  their  company,  and  promised  to  see  them  again  on 
our  return. 

The  Scheik  of  Eden,  the  last  inhabited  village  on  the  summit 
of  Lebanon,  was  the  uncle,  by  the  mother’s  side,  of  my  inter- 


152 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


preter,  M.  Mazoyer.  Hearing  from  his  nephew  of  our  arrival 
at  Tripoli,  the  venerable  Scheik  descended  from  his  mountains 
with  his  son,  and  a  party  of  followers,  to  pay  me  a  visit  in  the 
Franciscan  convent,  and  to  invite  me  to  his  house  at  Eden.  From 
Eden  to  the  cedars  of  Solomon,  is  only  three  hours’ journey  ;  and, 
if  not  hindered  by  the  snows  which  still  cover  the  mountain,  we 
should  be  enabled  to  visit  those  primeval  trees  which  have  shed 
their  glory  over  Lebanon,  and  are  contemporary  with  the  Great 
King.  We  accepted  the  invitation,  and  the  next  day  was  fixed 
for  our  departure. 

We  were  on  horseback  by  five  in  the  morning.  The  caravan, 
more  numerous  than  ordinary,  was  headed  by  the  Scheik,  an 
excellent  old  man,  whose  elegant  manners,  noble  and  easy 
politeness,  and  magnificent  costume,  were  far  from  assimilating 
with  our  notions  of  an  Arab  chief.  He  might  rather  have  been 
taken  for  a  Patriarch,  marching  at  the  head  of  his  tribe.  He  rode 
a  courser  of  the  desert,  of  a  bright  chestnut,  with  flowing  mane, 
worthy  to  have  borne  one  of  the  knights  of  Jerusalem.  His  son, 
and  principal  followers,  curveted  their  magnificent  stallions,  some 
paces  before  him :  we  followed,  and  a  long  file  of  our  moukres 
and  sais  brought  up  the  rear.  On  leaving  Tripoli,  the  traveler 
follows  the  course  of  a  river  hemmed  in  by  two  hills ;  the  finest 
trees,  with  groves  of  oranges,  overshadow  its  banks ;  a  public 
kiosk,  built  under  these  trees,  presents  its  perfumed  terrace  to 
the  pedestrian,  and  hither  repairs  the  citizen  to  smoke  his  pipe, 
take  his  coffee,  and  inhale  the  fresh  breeze  cooled  by  the  stream 
at  his  feet.  The  sea,  which  is  about  half  a  league  from  the  city, 
is  seen  from  this  spot  through  an  opening,  with  the  beautiful 
square-towers  erected  by  the  Arabs  on  the  two  sides  of  the  port, 
and  the  numerous  ships  anchored  in  the  road.  We  crossed  a 
large  plain,  in  a  state  of  cultivation,  and  planted  with  olive  trees ; 
and  on  the  first  hill  rising  from  the  plain  towards  Lebanon,  in  the 
midst  of  a  forest  of  olive  and  fruit  trees  of  every  kind,  we  found 
the  road  lined  with  an  immense  crowd  of  men,  women,  and 
children,  the  inhabitants  of  a  large  village  here  which  belongs  to 
the  Scheik.  Here  he  passes  the  winter  months,  his  summer 
residence  being  at  Eden.  These  Arabs  saluted  their  prince  re¬ 
spectfully,  offered  us  refreshments,  and  a  number  of  them 
accompanied  us  in  order  to  supply  us  with  provisions,  and  assist 
us  in  climbing  the  steep  sides  of  the  mountain.  We  proceeded 
onward  for  four  hours, — sometimes  traversing  deep  valleys,  some¬ 
times  scaling  the  summits  of  sterile  heights,  until  we  "halted  at 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


153 


the  brink  of  a  torrent  which  descends  from  the  summits  of  Eden, 
and  which  rolled  down  heaps  of  half-melted  snow.  The  Scheik 
had  caused  a  large  fire  to  be  lighted  under  the  shelter  of  a  rock, 
and  we  breakfasted  and  rested  our  horses  here.  The  path  then 
became  so  steep,  over  bare  rocks  as  slippery  as  polished  marble, 
that  it  is  astonishing  how  the  horses  could  climb,  much  more 
descend  them.  Four  Arabs  on  foot  kept  close  to  each  of  ours, 
assisting  them  with  hand  and  shoulder ;  and,  although  several 
slipped  down,  notwithstanding  their  aid,  no  one  met  with  any 
serious  accident. 

By  this  horrible  road,  or  rather  perpendicular  wall,  we  arrived, 
after  two  hours’  labor,  at.  a  rocky  platform,  whence  we  enjoyed 
a  view  over  a  large  mountain  valley,  and  the  village  of  Eden, 
which  is  situated  at  its  loftiest  extremity  in  the  region  of  snow. 
Above  Eden,  there  rises  a  pyramid  of  bare  rock  alone,  the  last 
peak  of  Lebanon  in  this  quarter,  and  a  small  chapel,  in  ruins, 
crowns  its  summit.  The  winter  winds,  which  war  incessantly 
with  this  rock,  bring  down  from  it  enormous  masses,  which  roll 
as  far  as  the  village.  The  neighboring  fields  are  covered,  and 
even  the  castle  of  the  Scheik  is  surrounded  with  these  vast  blocks. 
This  castle  is  of  pure  Arab  architecture,  with  loop-hole  windows 
in  couples,  each  couple  separated  by  elegant  pilasters.  The 
terraces,  which  serve  both  as  roofs  and  apartments,  are  crested 
with  pinnacles ;  the  arched  door-way  has  on  each  side  a  high  seat 
of  hewn  stone,  and  arabesques  over  even  the  door-posts.  The 
Scheik  had  arrived  first,  and  awaited  us  at  the  head  of  his  family. 
His  youngest  son,  with  a  silver  censer  in  his  hand,  burnt  incense 
before  our  horses,  and  his  brothers  sprinkled  both  ourselves  and 
them  with  perfumes.  We  found  a  magnificent  banquet  in  the 
hall,  where  whole  trees  were  burnt  on  the  hearth.  There  was 
abundance  of  game ;  and  the  choicest  wines  of  Lebanon  and 
Cyprus  gave  zest  to  the  repast,  while  our  Arabs  were  not  less 
hospitably  treated  in  the  court  below.  In  the  evening  we  went 
through  the  village.  Part  of  the  fields  were  yet  covered  with 
snow,  but  we  saw  every  where  traces  of  rich  cultivation  ;  the 
smallest  nook  of  mould  among  the  rocks,  presented  its  vine  or 
nut  tree;  innumerable  fountains  flowed  at  our  feet;  artificial 
canals  distributed  their  waters  over  the  fields,  and  these  fields 
hung  in  the  air,  supported  by  terraces,  framed  of  immense  blocks 
of  stone.  A  monastery  lay  under  the  peak  of  the  rock  to  our 
left,  and  we  gazed  on  numerous  villages,  scattered  thickly  to¬ 
gether  over  the  sides  of  the  mountains. 


154 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Same  date. 

The  Scheik  has  dispatched  three  Arabs  on  the  road  to  the 
Cedars  to  learn  whether  the  snow  will  permit  us  to  reach  them. 

j. 

They  have  returned  with  intelligence,  that  the  road  is  impracti¬ 
cable.  The  snow  lies  to  the  depth  of  fourteen  feet  in  a  narrow 
valley,  which  it  would  be  necessary  to  cross.  Wishing  to  ap¬ 
proach  as  near  as  possible,  I  beg  the  Scheik  to  allow  his  son  and 
some  horsemen  to  accompany  me,  leave  my  wife  and  the  caravan 
at  Eden,  mount  the  strongest  of  my  horses,  Scham — and  start  at 
snn-rise.  We  journey  for  three  hours  over  the  summits  of  moun¬ 
tains,  or  in  fields  saturated  with  melted  snow.  I  arrived  upon 
the  borders  of  the  Valley  of  Saints,  or  Holy  Valley,  a  profound 
gorge,  where-  the  eye  plunges,  from  the  summit  of  rocks,  into  a 
dell  more  shut  in,  more  sombre,  more  solemn,  even  than  that  of 
Hamana.  At  the  upper  extremity  of  this  valley,  at  the  point 
where,  still  ascending,  it  reaches  the  snows,  is  a  superb  sheet  of 
water,  which  falls  from  a  height  of  one  hundred  feet,  upon  a 
breadth  of  two  or  three  hundred  fathoms.  The  whole  valley  re¬ 
sounds  with  the  noise  of  this  fall,  and  of  the  rebound  which  the 
fluid  makes.  On  all  sides  the  rocks  are  covered  with  spray, 
through  which  we  perceive,  in  the  depth  of  the  valley,  two  large 
villages,  whose  houses  are  scarcely  distinguishable  from  blocks 
of  stone  rounded  by  the  torrent.  The  loftiest  poplars  and  mul¬ 
berry  trees  look,  from  hence,  like  tufts  of  rushes  or  herbs. 

The  descent  hence  into  the  village  of  Beschierai,  is  by  foot¬ 
steps  cut  in  the  rock,  and  so  steep  that  one  could  scarce  conceive 
that  men  would  trust  them.  Indeed  individuals  often  perish  here. 
A  stone  launched  from  the  point  where  we  were,  would  fall  plumb 
upon  the  roofs  of  the  hamlet,  to  us  an  hour’s  descent.  Above  the 
cascade  and  the  snows  stretch  immense  fields  of  ice,  which  undu¬ 
late  like  vapors,  and  are  of  a  mingled  green  and  blue  color.  At 
some  distance  on  the  left,  in  a  kind  of  semicircular  hollow  formed 
by  the  last  curves  of  Lebanon,  we  observed  a  large  black  spot 
upon  the  snow,  which  was  the  celebrated  clump  of  cedars.  They 
crown,  like  a  diadem,  the  brow  of  the  mountain ;  they  overlook 
all  the  numberless  spacious  valleys  that  slope  away  beneath  them  ; 
the  sea  and  the  sky  blend  in  their  horizon. 

We  galloped  our  horses  across  the  snow,  in  order  to  make 
the  nearest  approach  through  the  forest ;  but  when  arrived  at  five 
or  six  hundred  paces  from  the  trees,  we  sank  almost  as  deep  as  to 
the  shoulders  of  our  horses.  We  discovered  that  the  report  of 
our  Arabs  was  exact,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  to  touch 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


155 


these  relics  of  ages  and  of  nature.  We  therefore  alighted,  and 
sat  down  under  a  rock  to  contemplate  them. 

These  trees  are  the  most  renowned  natural  monuments  in  the 
universe.  Religion,  poetry,  and  history,  have  all  equally  conse¬ 
crated  them.  Holy  Writ  celebrates  them  in  many  places.  They 
form  one  of  the  images  which  the  prophets  loved  to  employ.  Solo¬ 
mon  was  desirous  to  consecrate  them  to  the  adornment  of  the  Tem¬ 
ple  which  he  first  erected  to  the  One  God  ;  doubtless,  on  account  of 
the  renown  which  these  prodigies  of  vegetation  had,  even  at  that 
epoch,  obtained  for  magnificence  and  sanctity.  They  must  have  been 
the  same  :  for  Ezekiel  speaks  of  the  Cedars  of  Eden  as  the  most 
beautiful  upon  Lebanon.  The  Arabs  of  all  sects  entertain  a  tradi¬ 
tional  veneration  for  these  trees.  They  attribute  to  them  not  only  a 
vegetative  power  which  enables  them  to  live  eternally,  but  also 
an  intelligence  which  causes  them  to  manifest  signs  of  wisdom 
and  foresight  similar  to  those  of  instinct  in  animals  and  reason  in 
men.  They  are  said  to  understand  the  changes  of  season  ;  they 
stir  their  vast  branches  as  if  they  were  limbs  ;  they  spread  out  or 
contract  their  boughs,  inclining  them  towards  heaven  or  towards 
earth,  according  as  the  snow  prepares  to  fall  or  to  melt.  They  are, 
in  short,  asserted  to  be  divine  beings  under  the  form  of  trees. 
They  grow  upon  the  proudest  site  of  the  groups  of  Lebanon,  and 
prosper  above  that  point  where  all  other  vegetation  expires. 

All  this  strikes  with  astonishment  the  imagination  of  the  peo¬ 
ple  of  the  East ;  and  I  do  not  know  if  men  of  science  would  not 
be  astonished  also.  Alas !  notwithstanding  all,  Basan  languishes, 
Carmel,  and  the  flower  of  Lebanon  wither.  These  trees  dimin¬ 
ish  in  every  succeeding  age.  Travelers  formerly  counted  thirty 
or  forty  :  more  recently,  seventeen  ;  more  recently  still,  only  a 
dozen.  There  are  now  but  seven  :  these,  however,  from  their  size 
and  general  appearance,  may  be  fairly  presumed  t^  have  existed 
in  biblical  times. 

Around  these  ancient  witnesses  of  ages  long  since  past,  which 
know  the  history  of  the  world  better  than  history  herself ;  which 
might  tell  us,  if  they  could  speak,  so  much  of  the  creeds  of  hu¬ 
man  races  long  since  vanished  ! — there  still  remains  a  little  grove 
of  yellower  cedars,  appearing  to  me  to  form  a  group  of  from  four 
to  five  hundred  trees  or  shrubs. 

Every  year,  in  the  month  of  June,  the  inhabitants  of  Beschie- 
rai,  of  Eden,  of  Kanobin,  and  the  other  neighboring  valleys  and 
villages,  climb  up  to  these  cedars,  and  celebrate  mass  at  their  feet. 
How  many  prayers  have  there  not  resounded  under  those  branches  ! 


156 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


And  what  more  beautiful  temple  can  exist — what  nearer  to  Heav¬ 
en  ?  What  dais  can  we  imagine  grander,  more  majestic,  or  more 
holy,  than  is  afforded  by  the  topmost  platform  of  Lebanon,  on 
which  stand  the  trunks  of  these  cedars  surmounted  by  the  dome 
of  their  sacred  boughs,  which  have  overshadowed,  and  still  over¬ 
shadow,  succeeding  generations  of  men,  calling  on  the  name  of 
God  differently,  but  all  recognizing  Him  in  his  works,  and  ador¬ 
ing  Him  in  his  natural  manifestations.  And  I  also  uplift  my 
prayer  in  presence  of  these  cedars  !  The  harmonious  wind  which 
resounds  through  their  sonorous  branches  plays  amidst  my  hair, 
and  dries  upon  my  eyelids  tears  of  grief  and  adoration  ! 

Having  remounted  we  proceeded  for  three  hours  over  the  plat¬ 
forms  which  tower  above  the  valleys  of  Kadisha,  and  then  de¬ 
scended  to  Kanobin,  the  most  celebrated  Maronite  monastery  of 
all  the  Holy  Valley.  There  is  a  fine  view  from  the  monastery  of 
Deir  Serkis,  at  present  abandoned  to  one  or  two  solitaries.  Burk- 
hardt,  in  1810,  found  here  an  old  Tuscan  hermit,  who  ended  his 
days  in  these  solitudes,  after  having  been  a  missionary  in  India, 
in  Egypt,  and  in  Persia. 

There  is  a  view  of  the  monastery  of  Kanobin  from  a  peak 
which  juts  over  the  valley  like  a  promontory.  I  gave  my  horse 
to  the  Arabs,  and  lay  down  in  the  sun  on  a  point  of  rock  whence 
the  eye  looks  at  once  over  the  hollow  of  the  Holy  Valley.  The 
river  Kadisha  rushes  along  at  the  foot  of  this  rock ;  its  bed  pre¬ 
sents  one  line  of  foam,  but  I  was  so  high  above  it  that  no  sound 
reached  me.  Kanobin  was  founded,  as  the  Maronite  monks  say, 
by  Theodosius  the  Great.  The  whole  valley  in  which  it  is  sit¬ 
uated  resembles  the  nave  of  a  vast  natural  church,  with  the  arch 
of  heaven  for  a  roof,  the  towering  sides  of  Lebanon  for  pillars, 
and  the  numerous  cells  of  hermits,  hollowed  out  of  the  rock,  for 
chapels.  These  hermitages  are  placed  on  the  brink  of  precipices 
which  appear  wholly  inaccessible,  and  are  to  be  seen  like  swal¬ 
lows5  nests  in  every  part  of  the  wall  of  the  valley.  Some  con¬ 
sist  merely  of  a  grotto  hollowed  in  the  rock  ;  others  of  little 
houses  built  between  the  roots  of  trees  upon  projections  of  the 
mountains. 

The  large  convent  is  at  the  lower  part  of  the  valley,  on  the 
borders  of  the  torrent.  There  are  about  forty  or  fifty  Maronite 
monks  engaged  there,  some  in  cultivating  the  ground  and  others 
in  printing  elementary  books  for  the  instruction  of  the  people. 

These  excellent  persons  are  the  sons  and  fathers  of  the  peo¬ 
ple,  living  not  by  their  exertions,  but  laboring  night  and  day 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


157 


for  the  advancement  of  their  fraternity  :  guileless  men,  who  look 
for  neither  riches  nor  renown  in  this  world.  To  work,  to  pray,  to 
live  in  peace  ;  this  is  the  highest  ambition  of  the  Maronite  monks. 

Same  date. 

Yesterday  I  descended  again  from  the  summits  of  these  Alps, 
and  became  the  guest  of  the  Scheik  of  Eden,  an  Arabian  Maron¬ 
ite  village  suspended  beneath  the  highest  peak  of  these  mountains, 
on  the  very  limits  of  vegetation,  and  only  habitable  during  sum¬ 
mer.  The  noble  and  venerable  old  man,  accompanied  by  his  son 
and  some  servants,  had  come  out  to  meet  me  as  far  as  the  neigh- 
borhood  of  Syrian  Tripoli,  and  had  received  me  in  his  house  at 
Eden  with  a  kindliness,  a  dignity,  and  an  elegance  of  manner 
which  one  would  imagine  to  be  possessed  by  one  of  the  old  lords 
of  the  court  of  Louis  XIY.  Whole  trees  were  burning  on  the 
wide  hearths:  sheep,  kids,  and  stags  lay  heaped  up  in  the  vast 
halls:  and  the  old  wines  of  Lebanon,  brought  from  the  cellar  by 
his  servants,  were  poured  out  abundantly,  both  for  ourselves  and 
our  attendants.  After  having  spent  some  days  in  studying  these 
delightful  manners,  reminding  one  of  the  descriptions  of  Homer, 
and  as  full  of  poetic  associations  as  the  place  in  which  we  found 
them,  the  son  of  the  Scheik,  and  a  certain  number  of  Arabian 
horsemen  were  commissioned  to  conduct  me  to  the  Cedars  of 
Solomon,  which  yet  consecrate  the  highest  ridge  of  Lebanon,  and 
have  been  venerated  for  ages  as  the  last  testimony  of  his  glory. 
I  have  already  described  them. 

On  our  return  from  this  memorable  journey  we  lost  our  way 
among  the  windings  of  the  rocks,  and  in  the  numerous  and  deep 
valleys  with  which  this  group  of  Lebanon  is  every  where  divided. 
We  found  ourselves  all  at  once  on  the  brink  of  an  immense  wall 
of  rocks,  of  some  thousand  feet  depth,  which  surrounds  the  Holy 
Valley.  The  sides  of  this  rampart  of  granite  were  so  perpendic¬ 
ular  that  the  mountain  goats  themselves  could  not  find  a  path, 
and  our  Arabs  were  obliged  to  lie  on  their  faces,  and  stretch  their 
heads  over  the  abyss,  to  discover  the  bottom  of  the  valley.  The 
sun  was  setting;  we  had  already  been  traveling  for  many  hours, 
and  we  had  still  many  more  to  travel  before  we  could  recover  our 
lost  path,  and  regain  Eden.  We  dismounted  and  trusted  our¬ 
selves  to  one  of  our  guides,  who  knew  that,  at  a  short  distance, 
there  was  a  rocky  ladder,  formerly  hewn  by  the  Maronite  monks, 
who  had  from  time  immemorial  inhabited  this  valley.  We  kept 
along  the  brink  of  this  ledge  for  some  time,  and  then  descended 

vol.  n,  8 


158 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


by  the  slippery  steps  to  a  rocky  platform,  which  was  detached,  and 
commanded  a  view  all  around. 

The  descent  into  the  valley  was,  at  first,  by  wide  and  gentle 
slopes  from  the  region  of  snow  on  which  the  cedars  appeared 
like  a  dark  stain.  It  then  spread  itselt  out  covered  with  a  moss 
of  a  yellowish  green,  and  as  soft  as  that  which  grows  on  the  lofty 
rangeof  Jura,  and  of  the  Alps;  a  number  of  small  streams  bub¬ 
bled  from  beneath  the  melting  snow,  and  having  crept  through 
these  turfy  slopes,  united  in  one  foaming  stream  at  the  foot  of  the 
first  ledge  of  rock.  There  the  valley  sank  at  once  four  or  five 
hundred  feet ;  and  the  torrent,  precipitating  itself  to  an  equal 
depth,  and  spreading  over  a  wide  surface,  sometimes  covered  the 
rock  with  a  transparent  veil,  and  sometimes  leapt  forward,  detach¬ 
ing  itself  from  the  rock  in  liquid  arches,  and  falling  at  last  on 
immense  pointed  blocks  of  granite  torn  from  the  summit ;  there 
it  was  shattered  into  a  thousand  floating  particles  with  sound  re¬ 
sembling  thunder.  The  wind  of  its  fall  reached  us,  hurrying 
along,  like  a  thin  fog,  the  light  watery  vapor  of  a  thousand  colors  ; 
bearing  it  over  the  whole  valley,  or  hanging  it  in  dew  upon  the 
branches  of  the  shrubs,  and  the  rough  edges  of  the  rocks. 

In  stretching  towards  the  north,  the  Holy  Valley  became 
gradually  deeper  and  broader  ;  then,  at  about  two  miles  distant 
from  the  place  where  we  were,  two  naked  mountains,  involved  in 
shade,  arose  so  near  to  one  another,  as  scarcely  to  leave  an 
opening  of  a  few  fathoms  between  them.  Here  the  valley  ter¬ 
minated,  with  its  mosses,  its  lofty  vines,  its  poplars,  its  cypresses, 
and  its  foaming  torrent. 

Beyond  these  two  little  mountains  which  thus  closed  it  in, 
something  like  a  lake  was  to  be  seen  of  a  darker  blue  than  the 
sky.  It  was  a  small  portion  of  the  Mediterranean  ingulfed  be¬ 
tween  some  other  mountains  of  this  chain  ;  and  although  at 
twenty  leagues  distance  from  us,  the  transparency  of  the  air 
enabled  us  to  see  it  as  plainly  as  if  it  lay  at  our  feet.  We  even 
distinguished  two  vessels  under  sail,  which,  suspended  between 
the  blue  of  the  heavens  and  that  of  the  sea,  resembled  two  swans 
floating  on  the  horizon.  This  spectacle  occupied  us  so  much  at 
first  as  to  withdraw  our  attention  from  the  valley  itself ;  but  as 
soon  as  we  had  recovered  from  the  first  dazzling  effect,  and  our 
eyes  were  able  to  pierce  through  the  vapors  of  evening,  as  well 
as  through  those  which  arose  from  the  water,  a  scene  of  another 
nature  gradually  unfolded  itself  before  us. 

At  each  turn  of  the  torrent,  where  the  foam  left  a  dry  spot, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


159 


a  convent  of  Maronite  monks  was  to  be  seen,  built  of  a  reddish 
brown  stone  upon  the  gray  rock,  the  smoke  from  it  rising  between 
the  lofty  poplars  and  cypresses.  Around  these  convents  were 
little  fields,  won  from  the  rock  or  torrent,  which  appeared  to  be 
cultivated  with  as  much  care  as  the  choicest  gardens  of  our 
country  houses.  Here  and  there  were  to  be  seen  the  Maronites 
themselves,  covered  with  their  black  cowls,  returning  from  their 
labor  in  the  fields — some  with  their  spades  over  their  shoulders, 
or  driving  small  herds  of  Arabian  foal;  while  others  were  hold¬ 
ing  the  handle  of  the  plough,  and  driving  their  oxen  between  the 
rows  of  mulberry  trees.  Many  of  these  dwellings  of  prayer  and 
labor  are  placed,  with  their  oratories  and  hermitages,  on  the  brink 
of  rocky  eminences  which  project  from  the  two  immense  chains 
of  mountains;  some  are  hollowed  out  of  the  rock  itself  like  the 
habitations  of  deer.  Nothing  was  perceived  but  the  door,  sur¬ 
mounted  by  an  empty  ogive,  in  which  hung  the  bell,  and  some 
small  terraces,  cut  out  beneath  the  overhanging  rock,  or  wherever 
the  foot  of  man  could  reach,  as  places  of  resort  for  the  old  and 
infirm  monks,  whenever  they  wished  to  breathe  the  fresh  air 
or  to  see  a  little  of  the  sun.  To  certain  precipitous  points 
the  eye  could  not  perceive  any  access ;  yet  even  there  was 
placed  a  convent,  an  oratory,  and  a  hermitage  ;  and  the  figures 
of  the  anchorites  themselves  were  seen  moving  about  among  the 
rocks  and  shrubs,  working,  reading,  or  praying.  One  of  these 
convents  was  an  Arabian  printing  office,  for  the  instruction  of  the 
Maronite  people  :  its  terraces  were  crowded  with  monks,  passing 
and  repassing,  and  laying  upon  a  kind  of  rush  mats,  white  leaves 
of  wet  paper. 

Nothing  but  the  pencil  can  describe  the  number  and  pic¬ 
turesque  appearance  of  these  retreats  ;  the  very  stones  appeared 
to  have  produced  naturally  the  cells  which  they  formed  ;  the 
very  hermits  to  belong  naturally  to  their  grottoes;  each  stream 
had  a  movement  and  a  life  of  its  ow^i  ;  each  tree,  its  anchorite 
beneath  its  shade  :  wherever  the  eye  rested,  the  valley,  the 
mountain,  the  precipices  seemed  to  become  animated,  so  to  speak, 
beneath  its  gaze,  and  a  scene  of  life,  of  prayer,  and  of  contem¬ 
plation  to  detach  itself  from  these  eternal  masses,  or  to  mingle 

with  them  onlv  to  render  them  more  sacred.  But  the  sun  soon 

•/ 

declined,  the  labors  of  the  day  ceased,  and  the  dark  figures,  scat¬ 
tered  through  the  valley,  retired  to  their  grottoes  or  their  monas¬ 
teries.  The  bells  sounded  from  all  parts  the  hour  of  meeting  for 
the  duties  of  the  evening ;  some  with  voices  strong  as  the  winds 


160 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


as  they  rush  over  the  sea ;  others  with  the  light  and  silvery 
tones  of  birds  as  they  sport  among  the  corn.  All  these  bells  re¬ 
plied  to  each  other  from  the  opposite  sides  of  the  valley,  and  the 
thousand  echoes  from  the  grottoes  and  precipices  repeated  them 
in  confused  murmurs,  mingled  with  the  roaring  of  the  torrent  and 
of  the  cedars,  and  the  thousand  falls  of  the  streams  and  cascades 
which  worked  their  way  down  the  two  sides  of  the  mountain. 

A  moment  of  silence  ensued,  and  a  new  sound,  more  sweet, 
more  melancholy,  and  more  affecting,  filled  the  valley.  It  was 
the  chant  of  the  Psalms,  which,  rising  all  at  once  from  each 
monastery,  each  church,  each  oratory,  and  each  rocky  cell, 
mingled  as  it  rose  to  us  in  one  vast  murmur,  and  resembled  a 
single  melodious  complaint  of  the  whole  valley,  which  now  seemed 
to  possess  but  one  soul,  and  one  voice ;  then  a  cloud  perfumed 
the  air  that  angels  might  have  breathed :  we  remained  mute  and 
enchanted,  like  those  celestial  spirits  when,  reposing  themselves 
for  the  first  time  over  this  globe  which  they  believed  a  desert, 
they  heard  rise  from  these  same  regions  the  first  prayer  of  man. 
We  acknowledged  that  it  was  in  the  power  of  the  human  voice  to 
animate  even  the  dust  of  nature,  and  we  felt  that  this  voice  must, 
in  the  last  days,  (all  the  feelings  of  the  heart  being  then  absorbed 
in  one,)  give  utterance  to  poetry,  when  poetry  itself  would  be  but 
hymns  of  adoration. 

April  14,  1833. 

I  went  down  to  Tripoli  from  Syria  with  the  Scheik  and  his 
tribe.  I  gave  to  his  son  a  piece  of  silk  stuff  to  make  a  divan.  We 
passed  a  day  in  traversing  the  delicious  environs  of  Tripoli ;  de¬ 
parted  for  Bayreut,  by  the  sea-shore  ;  and  passed  five  days  in 
embarking  our  luggage  on  board  of  the  brig  which  I  had  hired, 
the  Sophia  ; — circumstances  preparatory  to  a  tour  in  Egypt.  We 
bade  adieu  to  all  our  friends,  both  Frank  and  Arab.  I  gave  them 
some  of  my  horses  ;  and  sent  away  six  of  the  finest  of  the  others 
under  the  care  of  an  Arab  groom,  and  three  of  my  most  trust¬ 
worthy  sais ,  instructing  them  to  go  through  Syria  and  Caramania, 
and  await  me  on  the  1st  of  July,  on  the  borders  of  the  Gulf  of 
Macri,  over  against  the  Isle  of  Rhodes,  in  Asia  Minor.  At  break 
of  day,  on  the  15th  of  April,  1833,  we  quitted  the  house  where 
Julia  had  embraced  us  for  the  last  time,  and  plumed  her  wings 
for  heaven.  I  kissed  the  floor  of  the  chamber  a  thousand  times, 
and  watered  it  with  my  tears  :  that  house  was  to  me  even  a  sacred 
relic  :  I  still  beheld  her  in  every  part  of  it,  reminded  by  the  birds, 
the  doves,  her  horse,  her  garden,  and  the  two  pretty  little  Syrian 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


161 


girls  who  used  to  play  with  her,  and  lived  on  the  lawn  under  our 
windows.  They  have  risen  before  daylight,  and,  clad  in  their 
richest  apparel,  they  weep  ;  they  lift  their  hands  towards  us,  and 
tear  the  flowers  from  their  hair.  I  gave,  as  a  present  to  each,  to 
keep  by  way  of  remembrance  of  stranger-friends  whom  they  will 
never  more  behold  except  in  thought,  a  necklace  of  gold,  to  be 
worn  on  their  wedding-day.  One  of  these  girls,  Anastasia,  is  the 
most  lovely  maiden  I  have  seen  in  the  East. 

The  sea  shines  like  a  mirror.  The  vessels  laden  with  our 
friends  who  are  come  to  see  us  on  board,  follow  us.  We  set  sail 
with  a  light  east  wind. 

The  shores  of  Syria,  bordered  with  a  long  fringe  of  sand, 
gradually  disappeared  together  with  the  cedar-tops.  The  white 
peaks  of  Lebanon,  however,  remained  in  sight  a  long  while.  We 
doubled  Cape  Carmel  during  the  night ;  at  break  of  day,  we  had 
got  as  high  as  St.  Jean  d’Acre,  in  front  of  the  Gulf  of  Kaipha  : 
the  sea  is  beautiful,  and  the  waves  are  furrowed  by  a  shoal  of 
dolphins  who  bound  alongside  our  ships.  Every  thing  has  the 
appearance  of  jubilee  and  joy  throughout  nature,  and  upon  the 
waters  which  flow  round  that  bark  which  bears  two  hearts  dead 
to  all  enjoyment  and  all  serenity. 

I  passed  the  night  upon  deck — in  what  thoughts  ?  My  heart 
alone  can  answer.  We  coasted  the  low  shores  of  Galilee.  Jaffa 
glittered  like  a  rock  of  chalk  in  the  horizon,  upon  a  bank  of  white 
sand.  We  steered  thitherward;  we  staid  there  several  days. 
My  wife  and  such  of  my  friends  as  had  not  accompanied  me  to 
Jerusalem  were  unwilling  to  pass  so  near  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
without  going  to  carry  thither  some  additional  lamentations.  In 
the  evening  the  wind  freshened,  and  we  cast  anchor  at  seven 
o’clock  in  the  stormy  roads  of  Jaffa.  The  sea  was  running  too 
high  to  admit  of  our  lowering  a  boat  from  the  stern.  Next  day, 
however,  we  all  disembarked.  A  caravan  had  been  prepared  by 
the  attentions  of  my  old  friends,  Messrs.  Damiani,  agents  of 
France,  at  Jaffa.  It  started  on  its  expedition  at  eleven  o’clock, 
proposing  to  sleep  at  Ramla.  I  alone  remained  meanwhile  with 
M.  Damiani. 

I  passed  five  days  in  wandering  by  myself  about  the  environs. 
The  friendly  Arabs  whom  I  had  known  at  Jaffa  during  my  two 
first  passages,  conducted  me  through  the  gardens  possessed  by 
them  in  the  suburbs  of  the  town  :  there  we  saw  deep  forests  of 
orange  trees,  citron,  pomegranate,  fig,  and  other  trees,  as  large 
as  walnut  trees  in  France.  The  Desert  of  Gaza  surrounds  every 


162 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


part  of  these  gardens.  A  family  of  Arab  peasants  lived  in  an 
adjoining  cabin  ;  where  is  a  cistern  or  well,  together  with  several 
camels,  some  goats  and  sheep,  pigeons  and  fowls.  The  ground 
was  strewed  with  oranges  and  lemons  which  had  fallen  from  the 
trees.  We  pitched  a  tent  on  the  banks  of  one  of  the  canals  that 
irrigated  the  ground,  which  was  sown  with  melons  and  cucumbers  ; 
carpets  were  spread  ;  the  tent  was  left  open  toward  the  sea,  in  order 
to  admit  the  breeze  which  blew  from  ten  o’clock,  A.  m.  until  even¬ 
ing.  In  passing  under  the  orange  trees  it  stole  their  perfume, 
which  it  wafted  to  us  in  clouds.  We  descried  from  hence  the 
summit  of  the  minarets  of  Jaffa,  and  the  vessels  which  pass  and 
repass  between  Asia  Minor  and  Egypt. 

I  spent  my  days  thus,  occasionally  writing  some  verses  illus¬ 
trative  of  the  single  thought  that  pressed  upon  my  mind !  I 
should  like  to  take  up  my  rest  here.  Jaffa,  isolated  from  the 
whole  world,  on  the  frontier  of  the  great  desert  of  Egypt,  whose 
sands  form  white  downs  around  these  woods  of  oranges,  in  an  at¬ 
mosphere  ever  pure  and  genial, — would  form  a  delightful  place 
of  sojourn  for  a  man  weary  of  life,  and  desiring  nothing  more 
than  a  spot  shone  upon  by  the  sun. 

The  caravan  is  returned.  I  demand  of  Madame  de  Lamar¬ 
tine  some  accounts  of  Bethlehem,  and  the  surrounding  places, 
which  the  prevalence  of  the  plague  hindered  me  from  visiting 
during  my  first  excursion.  She  gave  me  the  following  details, 
which  I  here  insert. 

“  On  quitting  the  gardens  of  Jaffa,  we  put  our  horses  to  a  full 
gallop,  across  a  huge  plain  then  covered  with  yellow  and  violet- 
colored  weeds.  From  time  to  time,  immense  herds,  which  an 
Arab  cavalier  drove  before  him,  armed  with  a  long  lance,  as  in 
the  Pontine  Marshes,  swept  by  to  seek  a  scanty  nourishment 
amongst  those  herbs  which  the  sun  had  not  yet  entirely  calcined. 
Farther  on,  to  our  right,  and  towards  the  entrance  of  the  Desert  of 
El- Arish,  several  mud-heaps,  sprinkled  with  dry  herbs,  rose  above 
the  surface  of  the  ground,  like  hay-cocks  made  yellow  by  the 
storm  before  the  laborers  could  get  them  in.  It  was  a  village. 

“  On  approaching,  we  saw  several  naked  children,  like  Lapons, 
issue  from  those  little  reversed  cones  which  form  their  habitation. 
Some  women,  with  hair  hanging  about  their  shoulders,  and  half- 
naked  likewise,  quitted  the  fire  which  they  were  kindling  upon 
two  stones  in  order  to  prepare  their  repast,  and  ascended  to  the 
top  of  their  huts,  in  order  to  witness  our  march  a  longer  time. 

“  After  four  hours’  journey  we  reached  Ramla,  where  we 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


163 


were  visited  by  the  agent  of  the  Sardinian  Consulate,  who  very 
kindly  lent  us  the  use  of  his  house,  as  females  could  not  be  re¬ 
ceived  at  the  Latin  convents.  In  the  evening  we  visited  an 
ancient  tower,  an  eighth  of  a  league  from  the  town,  called  the 
Tower  of  the  Forty  Martyrs,  at  present  occupied  by  dervishes. 
It  was  Friday — the  day  of  worship  for  their  sect :  we  were  present. 
A  score  of  dervishes,  dressed  in  long  robes,  and  with  pointed  caps 
of  white  felt,  were  squatted  in  a  circle  in  a  space  surrounded  by 
a  little  balustrade  ;  he  who  appeared  to  be  the  chief,  displayed  a 
venerable  figure  with  a  large  white  beard,  and  was,  for  distinc¬ 
tion,  seated  upon  a  cushion,  from  whence  he  presided  over  the 
rest.  An  orchestra,  composed  of  a  nahi ,  or  bassoon  ;  a  shoubab# , 
or  kind  of  clarionet,  and  a  sort  of  small  double-drums,  called 
nacariate,  played  airs  the  most  discordant  to  our  European  ears. 
The  dervishes  rose  gravely  one  by  one,  crossed  before  the  supe¬ 
rior,  saluted  him,  and  then  began  to  whirl  in  a  circle  round  each 
other,  their  arms  extended,  and  their  eyes  raised  towards  the  sky. 
Their  movement,  at  first  slow,  was  gradually  quickened,  until  it 
gained  an  extreme  rapidity,  and  ended  in  something  resembling  a 
whirlwind,  wherein  all  is  noise  and  confusion.  So  long  as  the 
eye  could  follow  them,  their  looks  appeared  to  express  great  anima¬ 
tion,  but  soon  one  could  distinguish  nothing.  I  cannot  tell  exactly 
how  long  this  strange  waltz  lasted,  but  it  seemed  to  me  an  immense 
space  of  time.  By  degrees,  however,  the  number  of  waltzers 
diminished  ;  overpowered  with  fatigue,  they  sank  down  one  after 
the  other,  and  resumed  their  original  attitudes.  The  last  who 
gave  in,  seemed  to  place  great  importance  on  keeping  up  the 
game  as  long  as  possible,  and  I  experienced  a  painful  sensation 
on  seeing  the  efforts  made  by  an  old  dervish,  halting  and  tottering 
even  to  the  very  end  of  this  rude  dance,  to  prevent  succumbing 
until  after  all  the  others.  During  this  interval,  our  Arabs  con¬ 
versed  respecting  their  superstitions  ;  they  pretend  that  a  Chris¬ 
tian,  by  continually  reciting  his  creed,  would  force  a  Mussulman 
to  revolve  unceasingly,  even  to  his  death,  by  an  irresistible  impulse 
— of  which  fact  they  aver  that  there  are  numerous  examples ; 
and  that  once,  the  dervishes,  having  seized  on  one  who  employed 
this  kind  of  sorcery,  had  forced  him  to  recite  the  creed  backward, 
and  thus  destroyed  the  charm  at  the  very  moment  when  the  re¬ 
volver  was  on  the  point  of  expiring.  We  made  sorrowful  reflec¬ 
tions  on  the  weakness  of  human  reason,  which  gropes  along  in 
its  search,  like  the  blind,  its  route  directed  towards  heaven,  but 
often  missing  the  path.  These  extravagancies  which,  in  a 


164 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


measure,  degrade  the  human  mind,  have  nevertheless  an  object 
worthy  of  respect,  and  originate  in  a  noble  principle.  They  ex¬ 
hibit  man  desirous  to  honor  God  ;  the  imagination  wishing  to  exalt 
itself  by  physical  movements,  and  seeking,  as  men  intoxicate 
themselves  with  opium,  this  divine  intoxication,  this  complete  an¬ 
nihilation  of  personal  feeling  and  identity,  which  leads  them  to 
believe  that  they  are  absorbed  in  the  infinite  Unity,  and  commu¬ 
nicate  with  God  himself.  Their  rites  arc  perhaps  a  pious  imita¬ 
tion  of  the  celestial  dance  of  stars  before  the  Creator ;  perhaps  an 
effect  of  that  same  enthusiastical  and  passionate  inspiration  which, 
in  olden  times,  made  David  dance  before  the  sacred  ark.  Some 
of  us  were  tempted  to  play  the  part  of  the  wife  of  the  poet-king, 
and  to  mock  the  performance  of  the  dervishes,  which  to  those  in¬ 
dividuals  appeared  absolute  folly ;  thus  to  men  ignorant  of  the 
foundation  of  our  worship,  monastical  observances  might  appear 
ridiculous;  as  also,  the  mendicity  of  our  monks,  and  the  self¬ 
maceration  of  certain  ascetic  orders.  But  however  absurd  any 
form  of  religious  worship  may  appear  at  first  sight,  the  practice 
of  devotion  always  presents  something  worthy  of  veneration  in 
the  eye  of  a  more  profound  and  loftier  reason,  to  which  the  motive 
is  every  thing.  Nothing  is  in  its  nature  ridiculous  which  touches 
upon  the  idea  of  God.  It  may  be  sometimes  fierce  ;  often  undig¬ 
nified,  but  always  serious.  The  conscience  of  the  dervish  is  at 
rest  when  he  has  accomplished  his  pious  waltz,  and  he  firmly  be¬ 
lieves  that  his  pirouettes  have  contributed  to  honor  the  Deity.  If 
we  regard  him  not  with  ridicule,  we  are,  however,  soon  tempted 
to  look  on  him  with  pity  ;  and  I  know  not  if  we  have  more  right 
to  do  one  than  the  other.  Where  should  we  ourselves  be  without 
the  light  of  Christianity,  which  comes  to  illumine  our  reason  : — • 
would  it  otherwise  be  more  luminous  than  theirs  ?  History  fur¬ 
nishes  an  answer.  It  yields  us  one  Plato  for  millions  of  idolaters. 

“  On  leaving  the  tower  we  entered  the  galleries  of  a  ruined 
cloister,  which  lead  to  a  subterranean  church,  and  a  descent  of 
many  steps  brought  us  under  an  elliptical  arch  supported  by  a 
fine  colonnade.  I  have  always  been  struck  by  an  effect  at  once 
imposing  and  affecting,  in  the  aspect  of  a  subterranean  church. 
The  solitude  and  mysterious  obscurity  of  these  silent  vaults  re¬ 
call  the  earliest  periods  of  our  worship,  when  the  Christians 
retired  to  the  deepest  grottoes  to  conceal  their  mysteries  from  pro¬ 
fane  eyes,  and  to  escape  persecution.  In  the  East  most  of  these 
churches  seem  to  have  been  built  for  the  purpose  of  embellishing 
these  humble  primitive  asylums  (in  which  the  faith  so  long  took 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


165 


refuge),  with  all  the  luxury  of  architecture;  as  if  to  revenge,  by 
a  glorious  reparation,  the  humiliation  and  injuries  of  pagan 
dominion  ;  but  the  times  of  persecution  were  to  return  for  the 
unfortunate  Christians,  and  the  name  of  this  edifice,  the  Forty 
Martyrs,  indicates  that  it  has  been  a  retreat  to  the  faithful,  with¬ 
out  having  the  power  to  protect  them  ;  at  present  all  is  in  ruins ; 
the  naves  and  colonnades,  erected  by  emperors,  have  commanded 
no  more  respect  from  the  conquerors  than  the  humble  grottoes  of 
the  first  disciples  of  the  Cross;  the  vaults  serve  for  stables,  and 
the  cloisters  for  barracks. 

“  Some  tombs  of  the  times  of  the  Crusades  are  still  to  be  seen 
here,  but  the  darkness  prevented  our  making  a  longer  stay  :  we 
were  obliged  to  return  to  our  night’s  lodging,  and  prepare  our 
caravan  for  departure  in  the  morning. 

“  The  Aga  of  Ramla  gave  us  an  escort,  and  commanded  the 
chief  Cawass  not  to  quit  me  for  an  instant  in  the  defiles  of  the 
mountains  upon  which  we  were  about  to  enter,  and  to  obey  my 
orders  in  all  things.  The  respect  of  the  Mussulmans  for  Euro¬ 
pean  women  is  singularly  contrasted  with  the  dependence  in 
which  they  hold  their  own  females.  In  fact  we  had  much  cause 
for  satisfaction  in  the  extreme  attention  and  refined  politeness  of 
this  janissary  ;  constantly  watching  the  Arab  mare  I  rode,  he 
seemed  to  fear  that  I  should  be  endangered  by  its  fieetness,  and 
could  not  comprehend  how  I  could  maintain  my  equilibrium  in 
the  steep  paths  we  were  climbing ;  he  was  very  useful  to  us 
afterwards,  when  we  encountered  in  these  very  gorges  innumera¬ 
ble  pilgrims  returning  from  Jerusalem,  who  barred  our  passage; 
he  compelled  them  to  yield  to  us  the  least  impracticable  road 
amongst  the  blocks  of  granite  and  roots  of  shrubs  which  bordered 
the  ravine,  and  prevented  our  falling  down  the  precipice  ;  which 
would  infallibly  have  happened  to  us,  but  for  the  weight  of  his 
authority,  as  any  attempt  made  by  the  opposite  long  file  of  pro¬ 
cession  to  push  our  advancing  column  aside  must  have  thrown  us 
over. 

“  On  quitting  Ramla  the  route  continues  to  traverse  the  plain 
for  two  leagues;  we  stopped  at  Jacob’s  well,  but  having  no 
pitcher  to  draw  the  water,  which  was  very  deep,  we  continued 
our  journey.  This  whole  country  preserves  such  lively  traces 
of  the  Bible  times  that  we  feel  neither  difficulty  nor  surprise  in 
admitting  the  tradition  which  gives  the  name  of  Jacob  to  a  well 
still  existing;  and  one  would  expect  to  see  the  Patriarch  there, 
watering  Rachel’s  flocks,  rather  than  doubt  of  its  identity.  It  is 

VOL.  ii.  8* 


166 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


only  through  the  medium  of  reflection  that  astonishment  or  doubt 
finds  admission  into  our  minds,  when  the  four  thousand  years 
that  have  elapsed,  and  the  divers  phases  that  the  history  of  man- 
kind  has  since  assumed,  present  themselves  to  the  imagination, 
and  cause  one’s  faith  to  waver  ;  nevertheless,  in  a  plain  where 
water  is  met  with  only  at  intervals  of  three  or  four  hours,  a  well, 
or  a  spring  must  have  been  an  object  of  as  much  importance  in 
past  ages  "as  in  the  present,  and  its  name  was  likely  to  be  as  re¬ 
ligiously  preserved  as  that  of  the  towers  of  David,  or  the  cisterns 
of  Solomon.  We  soon  entered  the  mountains  of  Judea,  when 
the  road  became  difficult ;  sometimes  the  horses  had  but  just 
sufficient  footing  on  the  edge  of  the  precipice  ;  sometimes  the 
masses  of  broken  rock,  lying  across  the  path,  formed  a  rude  lad¬ 
der,  which  an  Arab  horse  alone  could  get  over  ;  yet,  laborious 
as  is  this  route,  it  presents  no  danger  comparable  to  those  which 
obstruct  the  road  to  Hamana. 

“  On  reaching  the  summit  of  the  first  ridge,  we  turned  for  a 
moment  to  enjoy  a  magnificent  view  over  all  the  country  we  had 
traversed,  as  far  as  the  shore  beyond  Jaffa.  Though  all  was  calm 
around  us,  the  horizon  of  the  sea,  heavy  and  red,  announced  to 
the  experienced  eye  a  coming  tempest :  already  the  threatening 
waves  agitated  the  ships  in  the  roads ;  we  endeavored  to  distin¬ 
guish  ours,  and  thought  of  those  who  were  still  on  board  ;  my  me¬ 
lancholy  presentiments  were  not  chimerical.  The  next  day  seve¬ 
ral  vessels  were  cast  upon  this  dangerous  coast;  and  ours,  after 
driving  at  anchor  a  considerable  time,  broke  her  cable  in  the 
midst  of  a  tremendous  squall.  After  a  moment’s  halt,  we  de¬ 
scended  the  mountain  to  climb  others,  sometimes  across  avalanches 
of  stones  which  rolled  under  our  horses’  feet,  sometimes  on  the 
edge  of  a  precipitous  bank.  The  declivities  to  the  right  and  left 
are  occasionally  well  wooded  ;  the  brilliant  green  presented  by 
the  beautiful  bushes  of  the  strawberry  shrub  making  a  pleasing 
contrast  with  the  scanty  foliage  of  the  mastick  and  olive  trees  ; 
water  only  was  wanting  to  the  beauty  of  these  landscapes.  But 
a  spectacle  of  a  very  different  nature  was  preparing  for  us;  an 
innumerable  procession  of  pilgrims  of  all  nations  coming  from  Je¬ 
rusalem,  defiled  before  us  from  the  summit  of  a  naked  and  barren 
mountain,  winding  downwards  to  the  gorge  through  which  we 
were  passing.  It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  picturesque  effect 
of  this  scene  ;  the  diversity  of  colors  and  costumes  of  the  various 
pilgrims,  from  the  rich  Armenians  to  the  poor  Calogeri,  and  the 
equal  diversity  of  animals  on  which  they  were  mounted,  all  con- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


167 


tributed  to  embellish  it.  After  admiring  the  general  effect,  we 
had  leisure  to  examine  the  details  of  this  long  cavalcade  during 
the  two  hours  we  were  passing  each  other  : — now  we  met  with  a 
train  not  unlike  the  triumphal  march  of  a  papal  legate  of  the  mid¬ 
dle  ages ;  it  was  that  of  a  Greek  Patriarch  in  his  fine  costume, 
majestically  seated  on  a  red  and  gold  saddle,  his  bridle  held  by 
two  sais,  and  followed  by  a  numerous  retinue  on  foot : — then  a 
poor  family,  the  father  driving,  with  his  pilgrim’s  staff,  a  mule 
overloaded  with  children  ;  the  eldest  seated  on  his  neck,  holding 
a  cord  for  a  bridle,  and  a  wax  taper  for  a  standard  : — others,  heaped 
in  the  panniers  by  its  sides,  nibbled  some  remnants  of  holy  bread  ; 
while  the  mother,  pale  and  attenuated,  followed  with  weary  steps, 
suckling  her  youngest  babe  as  it  hung  from  her  bosom  tied  by  a 
large  sash.  Next  came  a  long  file  of  neophytes,  singing  psalms 
in  a  monotonous  nasal  tone,  and  each  carrying  a  paschal  taper, 
according  to  the  Greek  rite :  farther  still  was  a  group  of  Jews  in 
red  turbans,  with  long  black  beards,  and  the  sinister  expression  of 
whose  piercing  eyes  seemed  to  curse  the  religion  which  had  dis¬ 
inherited  them.  Why  were  they  here  amidst  this  crowd  of  Chris¬ 
tians  ?  Some  had  taken  advantage  of  the  opportunity  offered  by 
the  passage  of  the  caravan,  to  visit  the  tomb  of  David  or  the  val¬ 
ley  of  the  Tiberiad  ;  others  had  speculated  on  the  profits  to  be 
made  by  purveying  food  for  this  multitude.  Here  and  there  the 
pedestrian  crowd  was  interrupted  by  camels  laden  with  immense 
bales  of  merchandise,  and  accompanied  by  their  drivers  in  the 
Arab  costume,  the  vest  and  large  pantaloons  of  brown  embroidered 
with  blue,  and  the  yellow  caftan  on  their  heads.  Some  Armenian 
families  followed  ;  the  women,  traveling  in  a  tactrewan — a  sort  of 
cage  borne  by  two  mules — were  concealed  under  their  great  white 
veils  ;  the  men,  in  long  dark-colored  robes,  their  heads  covered 
with  the  great  square  calpack  worn  by  the  inhabitants  of  Smyrna, 
led  by  the  hand  their  young  sons,  whose  grave,  thoughtful,  calcu¬ 
lating  countenances,  showed  no  traces  of  the  levity  of  childhood  : 
there  were  also  Greek  sailors  and  owners  of  pirate  vessels,  who 
were  come  from  the  ports  of  Asia  Minor  and  the  Archipelago 
laden  with  pilgrims,  (as  the  ships  in  the  slave  trade  with  African 
negroes,)  swearing  in  their  energetic  language,  and  hastening  the 
march  to  re-embark,  with  the  least  possible  loss  of  time,  their 
human  cargo.  A  sick  child  was  carried  on  a  litter,  surrounded 
by  its  family  weeping  over  their  expiring  hopes  of  a  sudden  mira¬ 
culous  cure  which  they  had  anticipated  from  their  pious  pilgri¬ 
mage.  Alas !  I  also  wept ;  I  had  hoped  and  prayed  like  them  ; 


168 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


but  still  more  unhappy  than  they,  the  extent  of  my  calamity  was 
no  longer  even  shrouded  in  uncertainty  ! 

“  This  long  procession  was  closed  by  a  crowd  of  miserable, 
tattered  Copts,  men,  women  and  children,  dragging  themselves 
along  with  as  roach  difficulty  as  though  they  were  just  dismissed 
from  a  hospital ;  sunburnt,  and  panting  with  fatigue  and  thirst, 
this  troop  marched  and  marched  to  keep  pace  with  the  caravan, 
fearful  of  being  left  behind  in  the  defiles  of  these  mountains.  I 
blushed  to  find  myself  on  horseback,  escorted  by  janissaries,  and 
accompanied  by  devoted  friends,  who  spared  me  all  danger  and 
all  fatigue,  while  so  lively  a  faith  had  led  thousands  of  individu¬ 
als  to  brave  hardships,  maladies,  and  privations  of  every  kind. 
These,  indeed,  were  true  pilgrims.  I  was  but  a  traveler. 

“  This  first  chain  of  mountains  is  separated  from  the  higher 
summits  overlooking  Jerusalem  by  a  pretty  valley,  in  which  the 
village  of  Jeremy  is  situated.  We  had  scarcely  passed  the  an¬ 
cient  Greek  Church,  which,  like  so  many  others,  is  now  used  as  a 
stable,  when  we  caught  sight  of  about  fifty  Arabs,  ranged  in 
form  of  an  amphitheatre  on  the  slope  of  the  hill,  and  seated  under 
a  group  of  fine  olive  trees.  On  a  slight  elevation  in  the  middle 
of  the  circle,  overlooking  the  others,  sat  their  chief,  the  famous 
Abougosh  ;  his  brother  and  son,  completely  armed,  and  holding 
their  pipes,  stood  one  on  each  side  ;  their  horses,  attached  to  trees 
behind  them,  filled  up  the  picture.  On  the  arrival  of  our  cara¬ 
van,  the  chief  sent  his  son  to  parley  with  our  dragoman  who 
marched  at  its  head  ;  and  learning  that  the  escort  was  conducting 
to  Jerusalem  the  wife  of  the  Frank  Emir  with  whom  he  had  been 
acquainted  six  months’  previously,  he  sent  a  request  that  we 
would  alight  and  take  coffee  with  him.  We  had  more  discretion 
than  to  refuse,  and  distributing  among  our  attendants  the  provi¬ 
sions  for  the  halt,  we  suffered  ourselves  to  be  conducted  within  a 
short  distance  of  the  Arabs,  where  we  stopped  :  our  dignity  re¬ 
quiring  that  they  should,  in  their  turn,  advance  to  give  Us  the 
meeting.  Abougosh  thereupon  arose,  and  coming  forward,  ac¬ 
costed  M.  de  Parseval.  After  showing  us  many  civilities,  and 
offering  us  coffee,  he  solicited  a  private  audience  of  me ;  when, 
desiring  my  people  to  retire  four  paces,  1  learnt,  through  the  me¬ 
dium  of  my  interpreter,  that  one  of  his  brothers  was  a  prisoner 
to  the  Egyptians,  and  that  believing  M.  de  Lamartine  to  have 
immense  influence  in  the  councils  of  Ibrahim  Pacha,  he  entreated 
me  to  solicit  his  intervention  for  the  restoration  of  the  captive  to 
liberty.” — We  were  certainly  far  from  possessing  the  credit 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


169 


which  he  ascribed  to  us,  but  accident  afforded  me  the  means  of 
serving  him,  by  procuring  his  cause  to  be  pleaded  with  the  Egyp¬ 
tian  commander. 

“  As  we  approached  Jerusalem,  the  walls  were  entirely  inter¬ 
cepted  by  a  great  encampment  of  Ibrahim  Pacha’s  troops.  The 
sentinels  advanced,  examined  us,  spoke  to  our  dragoman,  and 
opened  to  us  a  large  passage  through  the  camp,  to  the  general’s 
tent,  before  which  we  presently  stood.  The  raised  curtains  dis¬ 
covered  him  to  us  in  person,  extended  upon  a  divan  of  cashmere, 
and  surrounded  by  his  officers,  some  standing,  others  seated  on  Per¬ 
sian  carpets.  The  bright  colors  of  their  vestments,  trimmed  with 
the  finest  furs  and  embroidered  with  gold,  their  shining  arms,  the 
black  slaves  who  were  presenting  them  coffee  in  silver  jlujeans , 
formed  altogether  a  scene  as  brilliant  as  to  us  it  was  novel. 
Around  the  tent,  sais  were  leading  by  the  bridle  the  most  beauti¬ 
ful  Arabian  stallions,  to  dry  the  foam  from  their  glossy  hides ; 
while  others,  fastened  to  the  spots  on  which  they  stood,  were 
neighing  with  impatience,  pawing  the  ground,  and  casting  fiery 
glances  towards  a  platoon  of  cavalry  prepared  for  a  march.  The 
Egyptian  troops  were  composed  of  young  conscripts,  whose  tight 
and  shabby  red  garments,  of  a  fashion  half  European,  half  Ori¬ 
ental,  contrasted  strongly  with  the  full  draperies  of  the  Arabs  ; 
yet  these  Egyptians,  small,  ill-made,  ugly,  and  ill-dressed  as  they 
were,  were  marching  from  conquest  to  conquest,  and  made  the 
Sultan  tremble  at  the  very  gates  of  Constantinople. 

“  We  entered  the  Holy  City  by  the  Bethlehem  gate,  turning 
immediately  to  the  left  to  proceed  to  the  Latin  Convent.  Women 
being  denied  admission,  we  took  possession  of  a  house  usually  un¬ 
inhabited,  but  which  serves  as  an  asylum  for  strangers  when  the 
convent  of  the  Holy  Land  is  full.  Here  we  extended  our  mat- 
resses  on  benches  disposed  for  the  purpose,  hoping  to  repose  from 
the  emotions  of  the  day,  and  recover  strength  for  supporting  us 
through  new  and  yet  more  agitating  trials.  But  assailed  by 
thousands  of  insects,  muskitoes,  fleas,  and  bugs,  which  had  doubt¬ 
less  been  long  confined  to  short  commons  in  those  deserted  cham¬ 
bers — or,  a  still  more  alarming  supposition,  had  been  left  there 
by  some  of  the  ragged  pilgrims  we  had  just  encountered,  sleep 
was  impossible,  and  we  passed  the  night  in  endeavoring  to  defend 
ourselves  against  them  by  continual  change  of  place  ;  one,  how¬ 
ever,  of  our  traveling  companions,  in  spite  of  our  exhortations  to 
patience,  resolved  to  seek  a  refuge  in  the  convent  itself.  The 
steward  consequently  paid  us  a  visit,  and  told  us  that  had  he  re« 


170 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


ceived  notice  he  would  have  prepared  a  better  lodging  for  our 
reception,  and  promised  an  improvement  in  our  arrangements  for 
the  morrow.  I  made  a  thousand  apologies,  assured  him  we 
wanted  for  nothing,  and  again  I  blushed,  in  the  presence  of  so 
humble  an  apostle  of  poverty  and  self-denial. 

“  The  steward  was  a  Spaniard,  of  superior  mind  and  much 
information  respecting  persons  and  things ;  and,  during  our  stay 
at  Jerusalem,  I  had  opportunities  particularly  to  appreciate  his 
extreme  kindness,  his  merit,  and  the  usefulness  of  his  influence  in 
the  convent  of  the  Holy  Land  ;  but  his  course  of  trial  in  this 
world  was  about  to  be  consummated  by  martyrdom,  at  scarcely 
fifty  years  of  age,  and  at  the  moment  when  he  was  probably  flat¬ 
tering  himself  with  the  enjoyment  of  a  short  repose  in  the  bosom 
of  his  native  country.  Having  embarked,  a  short  time  after  our 
departure,  to  return  to  Spain,  he  was  massacred,  with  fifteen  other 
monks,  by  some  Greek  sailors,  at  no  great  distance  from  the 
coast  of  Cyprus.  A  Mussulman  child,  who  alone  escaped  the 
carnage,  pursued  and  denounced  the  assassins,  who  were  arrested 
in  Caramania. 

“  At  daybreak  the  next  morning  we  commenced  our  visits  to 
the  sacred  localities.  But  I  must  here  arrest  my  pen,  and 
restrain  the  secret  emotions  inspired  by  those  localities,  and 
which  interest  myself  alone  ;  nor  need  I  dwell  on  the  appearance 
of  the  streets  of  Jerusalem,  already  described  by  my  traveling 
companions.  All  the  impressions  here  produced  upon  my  mind 
I  veiled  in  a  close  reserve ;  I  had  no  occasion  to  commit  them  to 
paper,  they  were  too  profound  to  be  ever  effaced  from  my  remem¬ 
brance  ;  if  there  is  a  spot  in  the  world  which  possesses  the  me¬ 
lancholy  power  of  arousing  to  new  energy  all  of  sorrow  and 
affliction  that  lies  dormant  within  the  human  breast,  and  of  an¬ 
swering  its  inward  regrets  by  a  grief  which  may  be  called  ma¬ 
terial,  Jerusalem  is  that  spot.  Every  step  which  we  there  take, 
wakens  an  echo  as  of  the  voice  of  lamentation  from  the  depth  of 
the  heart ;  and  every  look  falls  on  some  monument  of  holy  sor¬ 
row,  which  absorbs  our  individual  calamities  in  those  ineffable 
agonies  of  humanity,  which  were  suffered,  expiated,  and  con¬ 
secrated  here. 

“We  left  Jerusalem  at  five  in  the  morning,  in  order  to  reach 
Bethlehem  in  time  for  the  mass  celebrated  in  the  Grotto  of  the 
Nativity ;  an  old  long-bearded  Spanish  monk  rode  in  front,  and 
served  as  our  guide,  wrapped  in  a  mack/ah  (a  Bedouin  mantle), 
of  broad  black  and  white  stripes,  his  feet  touching  the  ground  on 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


171 


each  side  of  the  small  ass  which  he  bestrode.  Although  the 
month  was  April,  a  freezing  wind — the  subsiding  gales  of  the 
tempest  which  had  raged  on  the  Sea  of  Jaffa— blew  with  such 
violence  as  to  threaten  me  and  my  horse  together  with  an  over¬ 
throw.  Whirlwinds  of  dust  blinded  me  :  I  surrendered  the  reins 
of  my  mare  to  my  Arab  sais,  folded  my  macklah  about  me,  and 
concentrated  myself  in  those  reflections  to  which  the  route  we 
were  traveling,  and  the  objects  consecrated  by  tradition,  gave 
birth.  But  those  objects  are  so  well  known,  that  I  shall  not  stay 
to  describe  them  ;  the  prophet  Elijah’s  olive  tree — the  fountain  at 
which  the  star  reappeared  to  the  Magi — the  site  of  Rama,  from 
whence  proceeded  the  heart-rending  voice  to  which  my  own 
bosom  responded — all  excited  sensations  too  deeply  felt  to  be  ex¬ 
pressed. 

“The  Latin  Convent  of  Bethlehem  had  been  closed  eleven 
months  on  account  of  the  plague ;  but  as  the  disease  had  for  some 
time  carried  off  no  fresh  victims,  when  we  presented  ourselves  at 
the  small  postern  which  serves  as  an  entrance  to  the  monastery, 
it  opened  to  receive  us :  stooping,  one  by  one,  to  pass  through  the 
low  and  narrow  aperture,  great  was  our  surprise,  on  emerging,  to 
find  ourselves  in  the  interior  of  a  majestic  church  :  forty-eight 
pillars,  each  of  a  single  block  of  marble,  ranged  in  double  files  on 
either  hand,  formed  five  aisles,  and  were  surmounted  with  a 
massive  architrave  of  carved  cedar  ;  but  the  altar  and  the  choir 
were  sought  for  in  vain — all  was  broken,  ruined,  plundered  ;  and 
a  wall,  rudely  cemented,  divided  the  noble  edifice  at  the  spring-  • 
ing  of  the  transepts,  screening  the  part  reserved  for  religious 
worship,  the  exclusive  possession  of  which  is  still  disputed  by  the 
various  Christian  communions.  The  nave  belongs  to  the  Latins, 
but  serves  only  as  a  vestibule  to  the  convent  ;  the  great  gate  has 
been  walled  up,  and  the  low  postern,  by  which  we  had  penetrated, 
substituted,  for  the  purpose  of  guarding  these  venerated  remains 
from  the  hordes  of  Arab  freebooters,  who  would  gallop  their 
horses  to  the  very  foot  of  the  altar,  to  enforce  their  extortions 
upon  the  monks.  The  Father  Superior  received  us  with  cor¬ 
diality  :  his  mild,  calm,  and  happy  countenance  was  as  far  re¬ 
moved  from  the  austerity  of  the  anchorite,  as  from  the  jovial 
levity  of  which  the  monks  are  accused.  They  questioned  us 
concerning  the  countries  we  had  just  passed  through,  and  the 
Egyptian  troops  encamped  so  near  them ;  eleven  months  of  se¬ 
clusion  had  given  them  an  ardent  longing  for  news  ;  and  our  in¬ 
telligence,  that  Ibrahim  Pacha  granted  protection  to  all  the 
Christian  inhabitants  of  Syria,  was  very  encouraging  to  them. 


172 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


“  After  a  few  moments  rest  we  prepared  to  attend  mass  at  the 
Chapel  of  the  Manger.  Preceded  by  the  fathers,  and  guided  by 
the  feeble  light  of  a  lantern,  we  descended  a  flight  of  steps  to  a 
long  labyrinth  of  subterranean  corridors,  leading  to  the  sacred 
grotto,  and  peopled  with  tombs  and  memorials  :  here  the  tomb  of 
St.  Jerome,  there  of  St.  Paul,  St.  Eustachius,  the  Innocents’  well ; 
but  at  that  moment  nothing  had  power  to  divert  our  attention. 
The  dazzling  radiance  of  thirty  or  forty  lamps  under  a  low  arch, 
at  the  end  of  the  passage,  showed  us  the  Altar  erected  on  the  spot 
of  the  Nativity,  and  two  steps  lower  on  the  right,  that  of  the 
Manger.  These  natural  grottoes  are  partly  overlaid  with  marble, 
to  defend  them  against  the  indiscreet  piety  of  pilgrims,  who  de¬ 
faced  the  walls  in  order  to  carry  away  their  fragments  as  relics  ; 
but  the  naked  rock  may  still  be  touched  behind  the  slabs  of  mar¬ 
ble  that  covered  them  ;  and  the  general  features  of  the  vault  have 
preserved  the  irregularity  of  their  primitive  form.  Ornament 
has  not  here,  as  in  some  of  the  sacred  localities,  so  altered  the 
face  of  nature  as  to  engender  doubts  of  her  identity  ;  here  it 
serves  only  as  a  protection  to  the  natural  inclosure ;  and  on  ex¬ 
amining  these  arches  and  holes  in  the  rock,  it  is  easy  to  conceive 
them  serving  as  stables  to  the  numerous  herds  of  cattle  that  pas¬ 
tured  in  a  plain  still  covered  with  verdant  meadows,  stretching 
wide  beneath  the  platform  of  rock  crowned  by  the  church  and 
convent  as  with  a  citadel.  The  exterior  communication  which 
issued  from  the  subterranean  vaults  upon  the  meadows  has  been 
closed,  but  a  few  paces  beyond,  another  cavern  of  the  same  nature 
may  be  visited,  the  destination  of  which  was  probably  similar. 

“We  attended  the  mass:  my  state  of  mind  at  the  time  unhap¬ 
pily  unfits  me  for  expressing  the  feelings  naturally  inspired  by 
such  places  and  such  solemnities ;  my  whole  soul  was  absorbed 
in  a  deep  and  agitating  sense  of  affliction.  An  Arab  mother,  who 
brought  her  new-born  infant  to  be  baptized  on  the  Altar  of  the 
Manger,  increased  my  emotion.  After  mass,  we  returned  to  the 
convent,  not  by  the  subterranean  way,  but  by  a  broad  and  easy 
staircase  which  led  to  the  transept  of  the  church,  behind  the  par¬ 
tition  wall  I  have  mentioned.  These  stairs  were  formerly  the 
common  property  of  the  two  communions,  Greek  and  Latin,  but 
now  the  Greeks  alone  enjoy  it,  and  the  fathers  of  Bethlehem 
poured  forth  energetic  complaints  against  this  usurpation ;  they 
would  willingly  have  charged  us  with  the  prosecution  of  their 
claims  in  Europe,  and  we  had  much  difficulty  in  persuading  them 
that,  though  we  belonged  to  the  French  nation,  we  had  no  power 
to  procure  them  redress. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


173 


“  The  two  lateral  naves  forming  the  cross  of  the  ancient 
church,  now  constitute  separate  chapels,  one  belonging  to  the 
Armenians,  the  other  to  the  Latins.  In  the  centre  is  the  high 
altar,  placed  immediately  over  the  grotto,  and  separated  from  the 
choir  by  a  grating  and  screen  of  gilded  wainscot,  which  conceals 
the  sanctuary  of  the  Greeks. 

“  The  Greek  churches  in  the  East  are  much  richer  than  the 
Roman  ;  humility  and  modesty  are  the  prevailing  characteristics 
in  the  edifices  of  the  latter ;  glitter  and  ostentation  in  those  of 
the  former;  but  the  rivalry  which  naturally  results  from  their 
respective  positions  is  extremely  painful  to  the  observer,  who 
laments  to  find  chicanery  and  discord  in  a  region,  the  remem¬ 
brances  attached  to  which  ought  to  inspire  only  charity  and  love. 

“  The  original  construction  of  this  church,  as  of  the  generality 
of  Christian  edifices  in  Palestine,  is  attributed  to  St.  Helena  ;  an 
objection  indeed  has  been  urged,  that  already  far  advanced  in 
years  when  she  visited  Syria,  it  was  not  possible  for  her  to  have 
superintended  the  execution  of  such  numerous  works;  but 
thought  is  independent  both  of  time  and  space,  and  1  conceive 
that  her  creative  will  and  pious  zeal  may  have  presided  over 
erections  commenced  under  her  orders,  though  completed  after 
her  decease. 

“  We  returned  to  the  convent,  where  an  excellent  repast  was 
prepared  for  us  in  the  refectory  by  the  good  Father  Superior, 
whom  we  quitted  with  regret,  to  employ  the  few  hours  which  re¬ 
mained  to  us  in  visiting  the  neighboring  objects  of  curiosity. 

“  On  some  heights  overlooking  Bethlehem  are  seen  the  re¬ 
mains  of  ancient  towers,  marking  different  positions  of  the  crusad¬ 
ing  camps,  bearing  the  names  of  their  heroes.  Leaving  these  to 
the  left,  as  we  descended  by  rugged  and  toilsome  paths  towards 
the  plain,  we  were  shown  a  grotto,  to  which  tradition  states  the 
Holy  Virgin  to  have  retired  before  her  departure  for  Egypt. 

After  an  hour’s  march  we  reached  the  Garden  of  Solomon — 
the  hortus  conclusus  celebrated  in  the  Song  of  Songs  ;  a  small, 
narrow  valley,  about  half  a  league  in  length,  enclosed  on  all  sides 
by  steep  rocks,  and  watered  by  a  limpid  rivulet.  Among  the 
mountainous  and  rocky  peaks  which  surround  it  on  all  sides,  this 
valley  alone  offers  materials  for  tillage,  and  has  been  in  all  ages 
a  delightful  garden,  cultivated  with  the  greatest  care,  and  present¬ 
ing,  in  its  beautiful  and  human  verdure,  the  most  striking  con¬ 
trast  with  the  stony  barrenness  of  the  whole  vicinity.  W e  fol¬ 
lowed  the  serpentine  course  of  the  stream,  winding  sometimes 


174 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


along  its  grassy  banks  under  the  shade  of  its  overhanging  willows, 
sometimes  bathing  our  horses’  feet  in  its  transparent  waters  as  we 
rode  upon  the  polished  pebbles  that  line  its  bed,  and  frequently 
crossing  from  one  side  to  the  other  over  a  plank  of  cedar;  we 
thus  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the  rocks  which  form  a  natural  barrier 
to  the  further  extremity  of  the  valley.  A  cultivator  of  the  soil 
offered  himself  as  our  guide  in  scaling  it,  but  on  condition  that 
we  should  perform  the  journey  on  foot,  and  commit  our  horses 
to  the  charge  of  his  laborers,  who,  by  a  long  and  circuitous  route, 
should  rejoin  us  with  them  at  the  summit. 

“  We  acceded  to  these  necessary  terms,  and  diverging  to  the 
right,  reached  the  height,  after  an  hour’s  difficult  and  fatiguing 
ascent.  Here  our  toils  were  rewarded  by  finding  the  finest  rem¬ 
nants  of  antiquity  we  had  yet  seen.  Three  capacious  cisterns 
excavated  in  the  solid  rock,  and  rising  like  terraces  one  above  the 
other  on  the  inclined  face  of  the  mountain  ;  the  walls  as  smooth 
and  the  edges  as  perfect,  as  if  the  work  had  been  but  yesterday 
completed.  Their  borders,  paved  like  a  quay,  with  flat  stones, 
rang  under  the  steps  of  our  horses. 

These  magnificent  basins,  filled  with  translucent  water,  on  the 
summit  of  a  barren  mountain,  excite  the  highest  astonishment, 
and  the  mind  immediately  reverts  with  admiration  to  the  power 
and  capacity  which  could  conceive  and  execute  a  project  of  such 
magnitude.  To  Solomon  accordingly  they  are  ascribed.  While 
I  was  engaged  in  contemplating,  my  fellow  travelers  measured 
them,  and  found  their  dimensions  to  average  four  hundred  feet, 
by  about  a  hundred  and  sixty-five  ;  the  first  being  the  longest, 
the  last  the  widest  and  at  least  two  hundred  feet  in  breadth  at  the 
margin,  for  they  all  widen  upwards.  From  above  the  most  ele¬ 
vated  of  these  gigantic  cisterns  issues  a  slender  spring,  concealed 
under  some  tufts  of  verdure — their  sole  supply,  and  the  sealed 
fountain  of  the  Bible.  From  these  reservoirs  its  waters  were  for¬ 
merly  conducted  by  aqueducts,  (he  scattered  ruins  of  which  were 
frequently  visible  on  our  road  to  the  Temple  of  Jerusalem. 

“  At  no  great  distance,  ancient  battlemented  walls,  probably 
of  the  period  of  the  Crusades,  surround  an  inclosure,  within  which 
tradition  supposes  a  palace,  inhabited  by  the  wives  of  Solomon,  to 
have  stood  ;  but  very  slight  vestiges  remain,  and  the  site,  covered 
with  dunghills  and  ordure,  now  serves  as  a  nocturnal  retreat  both 
to  the  cattle — who  seek  their  summer  pasturage  on  these  moun¬ 
tains,  as  in  Switzerland  they  do  upon  the  Alps — and  to  their  shep¬ 
herds.  We  returned  to  Jerusalem  by  an  ancient,  broad,  and 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


175 


well-paved  road,  called  Solomon’s  Way,  which  is  much  shorter 
and  more  direct  than  that  which  we  had  followed  in  the  morning, 
but  does  not  pass  through  Bethlehem  ;  and  night  was  far  ad¬ 
vanced  when  we  re-entered  the  city  under  the  arch  of  the  Pil¬ 
grim’s  Gate. 

“  On  the  25th  of  April,  after,  for  the  last  time,  visiting  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  we  requested  the  ecclesiastic  who  had  accompa¬ 
nied  us  to  guide  us  round  the  exterior  of  the  church,  that  we 
might  be  able  to  comprehend  those  inequalities  of  ground,  which 
could  alone  explain  the  conjunction  of  the  tomb  and  Calvary 
within  one  edifice.  The  circuit  is  difficult,  because  the  church 
is  surrounded  by  buildings  which  obstruct  the  communications  ; 
but,  by  crossing  some  courts,  and  going  through  a  few  houses,  we 
succeeded  in  satisfying  ourselves  on  the  points  which  interested 
us.  We  then  mounted  our  horses  to  make  a  tour  of  the  city 
walls,  and  visit  the  tombs  of  the  kings.  On  the  north  of  Jerusa¬ 
lem,  about  half  a  league  distant  from  the  Damascus  Gate,  is  found 
an  excavation  in  the  rock,  nearly  twenty  feet  in  depth,  forming  a 
court,  inclosed  on  three  sides  by  walls  of  solid  rock,  ornamented 
with  sculptures  graven  in  the  stone,  representing  doors,  pilasters, 
and  friezes,  of  the  most  delicate  workmanship.  Jt  may  be  pre¬ 
sumed  that  the  gradual  raising  of  the  ground  has  filled  up  seve¬ 
ral  feet  of  the  original  depth  of  this  excavation;  for  the  opening 
on  the  left,  which  affords  ingress  to  the  sanctuary,  is  so  low  that 
it  can  be  passed  through  only  by  crawling.  Having,  with  great 
difficulty,  accomplished  our  entrance,  we  lighted  our  torches 
within.  Armies  of  bats,  roused  from  their  slumbers  by  our  inva¬ 
sion,  immediately  assailed  us,  as  if  determined  to  contend  for  the 
undisturbed  empire  of  their  territory  ;  and  had  retreat  been  easy, 
we  should,  I  believe,  have  given  way  before  them.  Tranquillity, 
was,  however,  gradually  re-established,  and  we  were  enabled  to 
examine  these  sepulchral  chambers,  which  are  also  excavated 
from  the  solid  rock  ;  the  angles  being  as  perfect,  and  the  walls 
as  smooth,  as  if  the  stones  had  been  separately  polished  by  ma¬ 
sons  in  a  quarry.  Wre  visited  five,  communicating  together  by 
openings,  to  which  formerly,  no  doubt,  some  blocks  of  hewn  stone 
had  been  fitted,  which  were  now  lying  about  upon  the  ground, 
and  afforded  the  prasumption,  that  each  chamber  had  been  closed 
and  sealed  when  the  niches,  contrived  in  the  walls  for  receiving 
the  sarcophagi  or  cinerary  urns,  were  filled.  Who  were,  or 
should  have  been,  the  occupants  of  mansions  prepared  at  so  much 
cost  ?  This  is  still  a  doubtful  question  ;  their  origin  has  been 


176 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LANU 


warmly  disputed.  The  interior,  in  its  simple  grandeur,  may  pre¬ 
tend  to  the  highest  antiquity  :  nothing  about  it  determines  its  date. 
The  exterior  sculpture  is  of  well-finished  workmanship,  and  of  a 
taste  extremely  pure  for  the  remote  period  of  the  Judean  kings  ; 
but  the  appearance  of  Balbec  has  greatly  modified  my  concep¬ 
tions  of  the  perfection  to  which  art  had  attained  before  its  known 
epochs. 

“  Continuing  our  ride  through  some  fields  planted  with  olive 
trees,  we  descended  into  the  Valley  of  Jehoshaphat,  and  remounted 
the  hill  at  mid-day,  along  the  walls  of  Sion.  The  vicinity  of  Da¬ 
vid’s  tomb,  of  the  Csenaculum,  and  the  Armenian  church  pos¬ 
sessed  of  the  stone  which  was  sealed  to  the  door  of  the  Holy  Sep¬ 
ulchre,  determined  us  to  enter  by  the  gate  Bab-el-Daoud  ;  but, 
when  we  would  have  visited  the  vault  in  which  tradition  places 
the  bones  of  the  Prophet  King,  the  Turks  prevented  us,  telling 
us  the  entrance  was  positively  interdicted  ;  they  imagine  that  im¬ 
mense  treasures  have  been  buried  in  this  royal  cave,  and  that  for¬ 
eigners  are  in  possession  of  the  secret,  and  come  hither  for  the 
purpose  of  discovering  and  secretly  purloining  them. 

“  The  Holy  Coenaculum  is  a  large  vaulted  hall,  supported  by 
pillars,  and  blackened  by  time;  if  ancientness  of  appearance  may 
be  admitted  in  evidence  of  high  antiquity,  this  room  bears  indis¬ 
putable  signs  of  it :  situated  on  Mount  Sion,  outside  the  then  city 
walls,  the  disciples  might  very  possibly  have  retired  there  after 
the  Resurrection,  and  have  been  assembled  there  on  the  day  of 
Pentecost,  as  tradition  affirms.  The  sacking  of  Jerusalem  under 
Titus  left  scarcely  any  thing  standing,  but  the  towers  and  a  por¬ 
tion  of  the  walls  :  but  these  sufficiently  indicated  the  various  sites, 
and  the  primitive  Christians  would  naturally  attach  considerable 
importance  to  perpetuating  their  remembrance  by  successive 
erections  on  the  same  spots,  and  frequently  from  the  ruinous  ma¬ 
terials  of  preceding  structures.  But  details  concerning  Jerusa¬ 
lem  would  be  mere  repetitions;  relinquishing,  therefore,  though 
with  regret,  a  subject  to  which  my  recollections  perpetually  re¬ 
vert,  I  will  say  but  one  word,  and  that  entirely  independent  of 
religious  feelings,  upon  the  aspect  of  that  village  of  tombs  (Siloam), 
which  has  ever  since  been  present  as  a  picture  before  my  eyes. 
Its  entire  Arab  population,  dwelling  in  caves  and  sepulchral  grot¬ 
toes,  would  afford  a  most  original  scene  to  the  eye  of  a  landscape 
painter.  Let  the  reader  imagine  in  the  deep  Valley  of  Silo  im, 
caverns  presenting  their  apertures,  like  the  mouths  of  so  many 
ovens  piled  tier  above  tier  upon  the  precipitous  face  of  the  rock, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


177 


or  like  the  irregular  sections  of  a  divided  bee-hive  ;  and  living 
beings,  women  and  children,  emerging  from  these  sepulchral 
caves,  like  phantoms  from  the  mansions  of  the  dead  ;  I  know  not 
whether  the  subject  has  yet  been  treated  by  any  artist,  but  it  ap¬ 
pears  to  me  to  offer  to  the  pencil  at  once  the  strongest  contrasts 
and  a  perfect  harmony. 

“  On  the  26th  of  April,  we  cast  our  eyes  for  the  last  time 
upon  Jerusalem,  and  with  sorrow  we  returned  on  the  road  to  Jaffa. 
As  we  entered  the  Valley  of  Jeremy,  sounds  of  wild  music  at¬ 
tracted  our  attention  ;  and  we  perceived  in  the  distance  a  whole 
Arab  tribe  defiling  over  the  slope  of  the  hill.  I  sent  the  drago¬ 
man  forward,  and  he  returned  with  information  that  the  multi¬ 
tude  was  assembled  for  the  interment  of  a  chief,  and  that  we  might 
advance  without  apprehension.  He  afterwards  related  to  us  that  the 
chief  had  died  suddenly  the  preceding  day,  while  hunting,  incon¬ 
sequence  of  inhaling  a  poisonous  plant ;  but  the  well-known 
character  of  the  Arabs  of  Naplous,  whose  costume  the  tribe  dis¬ 
played,  gave  us  reason  rather  to  believe  that  he  had  fallen  a  vic¬ 
tim  to  the  jealousy  of  some  rival  chief.  Notwithstanding  the 
warlike  habits  and  imposing  air  of  these  simple  people,  their  cre¬ 
dulity  is  perfectly  infantine  ;  all  marvelous  narratives  enchant 
them,  without  exciting  the  smallest  mistrust.  One  of  our  Arab 
friends,  a  man  of  considerable  knowledge  and  intelligence,  assur¬ 
ed  us  in  a  tone  of  perfect  conviction  that  a  Scheik  of  Lebanon 
possessed  the  secret  of  the  magical  words  used  in  the  primitive 
ages,  for  removing  the  gigantic  blocks  of  Balbec,  but  that  he  was 
too  good  a  Christian  ever  to  employ  or  divulge  them. 

“  We  quickened  our  pace  and  soon  joined  the  procession ;  in 
the  centre  of  which  was  the  bier,  borne  on  a  litter,  covered  with 
rich  draperies,  and  surmounted  by  the  turban  of  the  Osmanlis  ; 
Arab  women,  naked  to  the  waist,  their  long  black  hair  flowing 
over  their  shoulders,  their  breasts  bruised,  and  their  arms  thrown 
up  into  the  air,  preceded  the  corpse,  shrieking,  singing  lugubrious 
songs,  wringing  their  hands,  and  rending  their  hair — while  musi¬ 
cians  accompanied  the  voices  with  a  continued  and  monotonous 
rolling  on  the  tanble  and  dahiera  (a  sort  of  great  drum  and  tam¬ 
bourine).  At  the  head  of  the  procession  rode  the  brother  of  the 
defunct ;  his  horse,  covered  with  a  beautiful  Angora  skin,  and 
decorated  with  reins  of  red  and  gold  floating  loosely  over  its 
head  and  breast,  was  prancing  to  the  discordant  tones  of  the  music, 
while  the  priests  in  full  costume  were  waiting  for  the  cortege  be¬ 
fore  the  gate  of  a  tomb  surmounted  by  a  cupola,  supported  upon 


178 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


an  open  colonnade ;  opposite  stood  the  ruined  church,  the  terraced 
roof  of  which  was  filled  with  women  in  long  white  veils  resembling 
the  priestesses  of  the  ancient  sacrifices,  or  the  weepers  of  the 
Memphian  cenotaphs.  When  the  chief  approached  the  tomb  he 
alighted,  and  threw  himself  into  the  arms  of  the  high  priest,  with 
the  liveliest  demonstrations  of  grief ;  the  latter  exhorted  him  to 
submit  to  the  will  of  God,  and  to  show  himself  worthy  of  suc¬ 
ceeding  his  brother  in  the  command  of  the  tribe.  Meanwhile  the 
procession  advanced,  deposited  the  corpse,  ranged  themselves 
around  the  little  temple,  and  the  death  songs  resounded  more 
piercingly  ;  this  doleful  pantomime,  this  funeral  pomp,  these  hymns 
of  despair  expressed  in  another  language,  and  attended  with  other 
rites,  seemed  to  be  a  living  memorial  of  those  lamentations  with 
which  Jeremiah  had  filled  the  same  valley,  and  which  the  biblical 
world  still  echoes.” 


DEPARTURE  FROM  JAFFA. 

Same  date. 

We  embarked  on  a  full  tide,  whose  enormous  breakers  were 
dashing  in  hills  of  foam  into  the  rocky  channel.  Waiting  fora 
moment  behind  the  rocks  for  one  wave  to  spend  itself,  a  few  bold 
strokes  of  the  oars  launched  us  on  the  open  sea ;  another  and 
another  breaker  succeeded,  and  lifted  up  our  boat,  which  floated 
like  a  cork  over  the  head  of  each,  then  sank  into  the  depth  of  an 
abyss,  whence  neither  ship  nor  shore  was  visible, — remounted,  and 
again  rolled  onward,  enveloped  in  a  showery  veil  of  surf.  At 
length  we  reached  the  ship’s  side ;  but  so  violent  was  her  motion, 
that  we  dared  not  near  her,  for  fear  of  being  struck  by  her  yards 
which  were  dipping  in  the  waves ;  an  interval  of  the  breakers  is 
seized,  a  rope  thrown  out,  the  ladder  is  placed,  and  we  have  at¬ 
tained  the  deck  in  safety. 

The  wind  became  contrary  ;  we  rode  on  two  anchors,  every 
moment  in  danger  of  shipwreck,  if  the  furious  agitation  of  the 
waves  should  break  them  ;  this  frightful  tossing  caused  some 
hours  of  physical  and  moral  agony  to  us.  Towards  evening,  and 
during  the  night,  the  wind  whistled  among  the  masts  and  cordage, 
as  if  through  the  shrill  pipes  of  an  organ  ;  while  the  vessel  bound¬ 
ed  like  a  ram  butting  against  the  earth  with  its  horns  ;  the  prow 
plunged  into  the  sea,  and  seemed  ready  to  be  swallowed  up  every 
time  that  the  beating  waves  heaved  the  poop  ;  cries  of  distress 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  TIIE  HOLY  LAND. 


179 


were  heard  from  the  Arab  sailors  of  some  other  vessels,  which 
had  conveyed  the  unfortunate  Greek  pilgrims  from  Jerusalem. 
These  small  vessels,  some  of  them  containing  only  two  or  three 
women  and  children,  made  an  attempt  at  putting  to  sea  for  the 
purpose  of  avoiding  the  coast — some  sailed  past  us,  the  women 
screaming  and  stretching  out  their  hands  to  us  ;  but  the  huge 
breakers  ingulfed  them,  and  in  an  instant  afterwards  they  re-ap¬ 
peared  at  a  great  distance  ;  a  few  of  the  boats  succeeded  in  keep¬ 
ing  at  a  distance  from  the  coast  ;  two  were  cast  on  the  rocky 
shelves  of  the  Gaza.  Our  anchors  at  length  yielded,  and  we 
were  being  hurried  towards  the  rocks  of  the  interior  port,  when 
the  captain  ordered  another  to  be  thrown  out. 

The  wind  now  moderated  and  turned  somewhat  in  our  favor  ; 
when,  making  for  Damietta  under  a  gray  and  foggy  sky,  we  lost 
sight  of  land,  and  made  a  good  day’s  sail, — the  sea  tranquil,  but 
the  captain  and  his  mate  occupied  in  watching  the  precursory 
signs  of  a  tempest,  which  exploded  at  nightfall.  The  wind  fresh¬ 
ened  every  hour,  the  waves  swelling  more  and  more  till  they  ran 
mountains  high  ;  the  ship  creaking  and  straining,  all  her  tackle 
whistling  and  vibrating  to  the  blast,  like  so  many  fibres  of  metal ; 
the  whole  a  combination  of  shrill  and  plaintive  sounds,  resembling 
the  wailings  of  the  Greek  women  at  their  funerals.  We  could 
no  longer  carry  any  sail  ;  the  vessel  rolled  from  one  abyss  to 
another,  and  at  every  lurch  her  masts  trembled,  and  appeared  to 
be  toppling  into  the  sea  like  uprooted  trees  ;  while  the  waves, 
borne  down  under  her  weight,  rebounded  and  washed  the  deck. 
Every  one,  except  myself  and  the  crew,  had  descended  to  the 
mid-deck  ;  whence  the  groans  of  the  sick,  and  the  uproar  of  chests 
and  furniture  rolling  confusedly  and  knocking  against  the  sides  of 
the  brig,  reached  our  ears,  whenever  the  bowlings  of  the  storm 
for  a  moment  subsided.  The  brig  itself,  spite  of  its  powerful 
timbers,  and  the  enormous  thickness  of  its  thwarting  beams, 
cracked  and  fretted,  as  if  about  every  instant  to  spring  a  leak. 
The  strokes  of  the  sea  upon  the  poop  reverberated  momentarily 
like  the  explosion  of  artillery. 

At  two  o’clock  in  the  morning  the  fury  of  the  storm  still  in¬ 
creased,  and  I  lashed  myself  with  a  rope  to  the  mainmast,  that  I 
might  not  be  washed  overboard  by  the  waves,  or  rolled  into  the 
sea  by  a  sudden  inclining  of  the  deck  almost  into  the  perpendicu¬ 
lar.  Wrapped  in  my  mantle,  I  contemplated  the  sublime  specta¬ 
cle,  occasionally  descending  to  the  mid-deck  to  calm  my  wife’s 
fears,  who  lay  in  her  hammock.  The  mate — a  man  who,  to  a 


180 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


front  of  iron  for  opposing  clanger,  united  the  compassionate  heart 
of  a  woman,  never  quitted  the  helm  during  this  frightful  tempest, 
except  to  carry  hastily  from  cabin  to  cabin  the  succor  or  encour¬ 
agement  of  which  each  passenger  stood  in  need.  In  this  manner 
the  night  wore  away.  Sunrise,  which  was  distinguishable  only 
by  the  wan  light  diffusing  itself  over  the  waves,  and  through  the 
huddled  masses  of  clouds,  far  from  diminishing  the  violence  of  the 
blast,  seemed  but  to  endue  it  with  renewed  strength.  As  far  as 
the  eye  could  penetrate,  we  saw  hills  upon  hills  of  foaming  water 
coursing  each  other  towards  us.  The  brig,  yielding  and  bending 
to  each  as  it  passed,  overwhelmed  by  one,  heaved  by  another, 
driven  one  way  by  an  impetuous  wave,  then  arrested  by  another — 
which  forcibly  impelled  her  in  the  opposite  direction — pitched 
from  side  to  side,  plunging  her  prow  forwards  with  a  violence  that 
threatened  us  with  instant  absorption  ;  while  the  sea  running  furi¬ 
ously  upon  her,  broke  over  her  poop,  and  swept  her  from  side  to 
side  :  now  and  then  she  would  recover  herself — the  sea,  amidst 
the  overpowering  fury  of  the  gale,  presenting  a  level  plain  of 
whirling  foam  in  the  bosom  of  those  vast  watery  mountains,  thus 
allowing  a  moment’s  repose  to  the  straining  masts,  but  presently 
again  immersing  us  in  the  region  of  stupendous  waves,  where  we 
again  rolled  from  precipice  to  precipice.  Between  such  horrible 
alternatives  the  day  expired.  The  captain  consulted  me  :  the 
Egyptian  shore  is  low,  and  a  ship  may  be  thrown  upon  it  before 
land  is  seen.  The  coasts  of  Syria  are  devoid  both  of  roadstead 
and  port.  It  was  necessary  to  resolve  either  on  tacking  through 
such  a  sea,  or  keeping  the  direction  of  the  wind,  which  was  driving 
us  upon  Cyprus.  There  a  road  and  haven  were  open  to  us,  but 
we  were  more  than  eighty  leagues  distant  from  it.  1  advised  that 
the  helm  should  be  set  for  Cyprus.  The  wind  drove  us  at  the 
rate  of  three  leagues  an  hour,  but  the  sea  ran  as  high  as  ever. 
My  wife  and  fellow-travelers,  who  kept  to  their  hammocks,  sup¬ 
ported  their  strength  by  a  few  drops  of  cold  broth  ;  I  myself  eat 
a  few  mouthfuls  of  biscuit,  and  smoked  with  the  captain  and  mate, 
retaining  my  position  on  the  deck,  near  the  binnacle,  my  hands 
holding  to  the  cordage,  which  supported  me  against  the  beating  of 
the  sea.  Night  closed  in  with  increased  horrors,  the  clouds  rested 
heavily  upon  the  sea,  the  whole  horizon  seemed  shattered  with 
lightning — all  was  fire  around  us  ;  the  thunder,  resounding  from 
the  crest  of  the  waves,  rose  to  meet  the  clouds  ;  three  times  the 
bolt  fell  near  us — once,  at  a  moment  when  the  brig  was  pitched 
on  her  side  by  a  colossal  breaker,  the  yards  dipped,  the  masts 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


181 


struck  the  wave,  and  the  surf,  projected  by  the  collision,  resembled 
a  rent  mantle  of  fire,  the  thousand  fragments  of  which  the  wind 
dispersed  like  serpents  of  flame  ;  the  whole  crew  united  in  one 
cry ;  we  seemed  precipitated  into  the  crater  of  a  volcano.  The 
effect  of  this  moment  was  the  most  terrific  and  most  sublime  which 
the  storm  produced  throughout  that  tedious  night.  For  nine  suc¬ 
ceeding  hours  the  thunder  enveloped  us ;  every  moment  we  ex¬ 
pected  to  see  the  inflamed  masts  fall  upon  us  and  set  fire  to  the 
ship.  In  the  morning  the  sky  was  less  heavy,  but  the  sea  resembled 
boiling  lava  ;  the  wind  calming  a  little,  and  no  longer  sustaining 
the  ship,  made  her  roll  yet  more  heavily.  According  to  the  ship’s 
reckoning,  we  were  still  thirty  leagues  distant  from  the  Isle  of 
Cyprus. 

At  eleven  o’clock  we  began  to  descry  the  land,  and  from  hour 
to  hour  gradually  gained  upon  it.  It  was  Limasol,  one  of  the 
ports  of  this  island.  We  set  all  sail  to  put  ourselves  more  quick¬ 
ly  under  the  wind  ;  as  we  approached  the  land  the  sea  became 
less  violent.  We  coasted  the  distance  of  two  leagues  from  the 
shore,  and  made  for  the  road  of  Larnaca,  where  we  soon  per¬ 
ceived  the  masts  of  a  great  number  of  vessels,  which  like  our¬ 
selves,  had  sought  refuge  there.  The  wind  again  rose  in  fury, 
and  carried  us  thither  in  a  few  minutes  ;  the  impulse  of  the  ship 
was  so  strong  that  we  were  afraid  of  breaking  our  cables  in  cast¬ 
ing  anchor;  it  was  dropped  at  length, — bore  down  some  fathoms, 
and  sounded  the  bottom.  We  had  now  gained  a  riding,  where 
the  waves,  though  still  boisterous,  might  rock  us  without  danger. 
I  was  once  more  in  sight  of  the  flag-staves  of  the  European  con¬ 
sulates  and  of  the  terrace  of  that  of  France,  whence  our  friend 
M.  Bottu  made  us  signals  of  recognition.  Every  body  remained 
on  board;  my  wife  could  not  revisit,  without  heart-rending  emo¬ 
tions,  the  excellent  and  happy  family  of  M.  Bottu,  amongst  whom, 
then  happy  herself,  she  had  experienced  so  much  hospitality  dur¬ 
ing  fifteen  months. 

I  landed  with  the  captain,  and  received  from  Monsieur  and 
Madame  Bottu,  and  Messieurs  Perthier  and  Guillois,  young 
Frenchmen  attached  to  the  Consulate,  those  affecting  marks  of 
kindness  and  friendship  which  I  expected  from  them.  I  visited 
M.  Mathei,  a  Greek  banker,  to  whom  I  had  been  recommended  ; 
we  sent  provisions  of  all  kinds  to  the  brig,  M.  Mathei  adding  to 
them  presents  of  Cyprus  wine,  and  Syrian  mutton.  Whilst  I  was 
taking  a  survey  of  the  environs  of  the  town  with  M.  Bottu,  the 
tempest,  which  for  so  short  a  time  had  subsided,  arose  again  ;  we 

VOL.  II.  9. 


182 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  IIOLY  LAND. 


could  no  longer  communicate  with  the  vessels  in  the  road;  the 
billows  covered  the  quays  and  threw  their  foam  even  to  the  win¬ 
dows  of  the  houses.  What  a  frightful  evening  and  night  I  pass¬ 
ed  on  the  terrace,  or  at  the  window  of  my  chamber,  in  the  French 
Consulate,  watching  the  brig  which  contained  my  wife,  as  it  roll¬ 
ed  to  and  fro  in  the  road  tossed  by  immense  waves  ;  and  trem¬ 
bling  every  instant  lest  the  cables  should  give  way,  and  the  vessel 
be  dashed,  with  all  that  remained  to  me  of  happiness  in  this  world, 
against  the  rocks. 

At  length,  on  the  following  evening,  the  sea  calmed  ;  we  re¬ 
gained  the  brig,  remained  three  hours  in  the  road  waiting  for  a 
good  wind,  and  were  repeatedly  visited  by  M.  Mathei  and  M. 
Bottu.  This  young  and  amiable  consul  was  the  one  of  all  the 
French  agents  in  the  East  who  received  his  countrymen  with  the 
greatest  cordiality,  and  paid  the  highest  respect  to  the  name  of 
France ;  I  have  twice  partaken  of  his  hospitality,  and  shall  al¬ 
ways  remember  his  kindness  with  grateful  friendship.  He  was  a 
happy  man,  surrounded  by  the  wife  of  his  affections,  and  children 
who  were  the  joy  of  his  heart.  I  understand  he  died  suddenly  a 
few  days  after  our  departure  ;  the  income  of  his  family  was  de¬ 
rived  solely  from  his  appointment,  and  the  whole  of  this  income 
he  had  dedicated  to  his  duties  as  Consul.  His  poor  wife  and 
lovely  children  now  depend  upon  the  compassion  of  the  country 
which  he  served,  and  to  whose  honor  he  dedicated  all  his  emolu¬ 
ments.  May  France,  when  she  thinks  of  his  merits,  remember 
his  widow  and  orphans. 

April  30, 1833. 

Set  sail ;  wind  variable  ;  three  days  employed  in  doubling 
the  western  point  of  the  Isle,  keeping  our  course  along  the  shore. 
Saw  Mounts  Olympus,  Paphos,  and  Amathonte ;  enchanting  pros¬ 
pect  of  the  coast  and  mountains  on  this  side  of  Cyprus.  This 

'  Island  might  become  the  finest  colony  of  Asia  Minor;  it  now 
contains  but  thirty  thousand  souls,  whereas  it  might  support  and 
enrich  millions  of  men.  Every  where  capable  of  cultivation  ; 
every  where  fertile,  woody,  and  watered  ;  possessing  natural  ship- 
roads  and  ports  on  every  side  ;  situated  between  Syria,  Carama- 
nia,  the  Archipelago,  Egypt,  and  the  European  coasts; — it 
might  be  the  garden  of  the  world. 

♦  May  3,  1833. 

This  morning  descried  the  most  prominent  heights  of  Cara- 
mania ;  Mount  Taurus  in  the  distance  ;  its  ridges  rugged  and 
covered  with  snow  like  the  Alps  seen  from  Lyons  ;  wind  mild 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


183 


and  variable,  nights  splendidly  starlight.  During  the  night  made 
the  Gulf  of  Satalia,  which  resembles  an  inland  sea.  the  wind 
falls  ;  the  ship  slumbers  as  upon  a  lake.  The  eye  encounters 
on  every  side  the  mountainous  amphitheatres  which  coast  this  and 
the  neighboring  bays.  Ridges  of  mountains  of  all  shapes  and 
heights  run  one  behind  the  other,  leaving  sometimes,  between 
their  unequal  summits,  high  valleys  through  which  the  moonbeams 
shed  their  white  vapors  over  the  mountains’  sides,  and  crown 
their  crests  in  a  pale  purple  haze.  Behind  these  nearer  eminences 
arise  the  angular  and  snowy  smmits  of  Mount  Taurus.  Some 
low  and  woody  capes  stretch  themselves  to  a  great  distance  in  the 
sea;  and  little  islands,  like  vessels  at  anchor,  are  detached  here 
and  there  from  the  shore.  A  profound  silence  reigned  upon  the 
sea  and  upon  the  land  ;  no  noise  was  to  be  heard  except  that  of 
the  dolphins  springing  continually  out  of  the  bosom  of  the  flood, 
as  a  kid  bounds  upon  the  greensward.  The  waves,  edged  and 
marbled  with  silver  and  gold,  seemed  fluted  like  Ionic  columns 
recumbent  upon  the  earth  ;  the  brig  was  perfectly  becalmed.  At 
midnight  a  land  breeze  arose,  which  carried  us  gently  out  of 
the  Gulf  of  Satalia,  and  along  the  Coast  of  Asia  Minor  as  far  as 
Castelrozzo.  We  entered  all  the  bays,  and  almost  touched  the 
land.  The  ruins  of  this  country  which  formed  several  kingdoms 
• — Pontus,  Cappadocia,  and  Bithynia,  now  desolate  and  solitary, 
are  stretched  out  upon  the  promontories  ;  the  valleys  and  plains 
are  covered  with  forests;  the  Turcomans  come  here  to  plant 
their  tents  during  the  winter  ;  in  the  summer  all  is  a  desert,  ex¬ 
cept  a  few  points  of  the  coast,  as  Tarsus,  Satalia,  Castelrozzo  and 
Marmorizza,  in  the  Gulf  of  Macri. 


May,  18.33. 

The  current  which  prevails  along  the  Caramanian  coast  im¬ 
pelled  us  towards  the  extremity  of  that  country  and  towards  the 
entrance  of  the  Gull' of  Macri  ;  during  the  night  we  pursued  our 
course  direct  for  the  Island  of  Rhodes,  but  the  captain  fearing 
the  vicinity  of  the  Asiatic  coast,  on  account  of  the  westerly  wind 
which  had  arisen,  stood  again  towards  the  open  sea,  and  we 
awoke  scarcely  within  sight  of  Rhodes.  We  lound  not  far  from 
us  our  consort  brig,  the  Alceste  ;  the  calm  prevented  our  ap¬ 
proaching  her  throughout  the  day  ;  in  the  evening  a  fresh  wind 
arose  which  brought  us  up  the  Gulf  of  Marmorizza ;  at  midnight 
the  land  breeze  returned,  and  we  entered  the  Port  of  Rhodes  in 
the  morning. 


184 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


May,  1833. 

We  passed  three  days  in  surveying  the  environs  of  Rhodes — 
charming  prospects  from  the  declivities  of  the  mountain,  which 
look  towards  the  Archipelago.  After  walking  for  two  hours 
along  the  strand,  I  turned  into  a  valley,  shaded  by  fine  trees,  and 
watered  by  a  small  rivulet :  following  the  banks  of  the  stream, 
edged  by  rose  laurels,  1  arrived  at  a  little  platform,  which  forms 
the  highest  point  of  the  valley.  Here  stands  a  small  house,  al¬ 
most  entirely  covered  with  the  branches  of  fig  and  orange  trees, 
inhabited  by  a  poor  Greek  family  ;  in  its  garden  are  the  ruins 
of  a  little  temple  of  the  Nymphs,  a  grotto,  and  some  loose  columns 
and  capitals,  half  hidden  by  ivy  and  the  roots  of  shrubs  •  beyond, 
is  a  grass-plot,  two  or  three  hundred  paces  wide,  with  a  fountain  ; 
here  grow  two  or  three  sycamores,  one  of  which  alone  over¬ 
shadows  the  whole  of  the  greensward.  It  is  the  holy  tree  of  the 
island:  the  Turks  respect  it ;  and  an  unfortunate  Greek  peasant, 
having  one  day  cut  down  a  branch,  the  Pacha  of  Rhodes  ordered 
him  to  be  bastinadoed.  It  is  not  true  that  the  Turks  disregard 
nature  and  the  works-of  Art  :  they  leave  all  things  as  they  find 
them,  and  their  only  way  of  ruining  every  thing  is  by  improving 
nothing.  The  hills  rise  in  peaks  above  the  grass-plot  and  the 
sycamores — crested  with  fir  trees,  and  abounding  in  little  cata¬ 
racts — which  channel  their  slopes  with  serpentine  ravines.  Far¬ 
ther  on  the  lofty  mountains  of  the  island  look  down  upon  and 
overshadow’  these  hills,  the  greensward,  and  the  fountain.  From 
the  brink  of  the  fountain,  where  I  am  seated,  I  see  through  the 
foliage  of  pines  and  sycamores,  the  sea  of  the  Asiatic  Archipelago, 
resembling  a  lake  set  thick  with  islands,  and  the  deep  gulfs 
which  lose  themselves  between  the  high  and  snow-crowned  moun¬ 
tains  of  Maori.  I  hear  nothing  but  the  splashing  of  the  fountain, 
the  murmuring  of  the  wind  amongst  the  leaves,  the  flight  of  the 
bulbul,  whom  my  presence  alarms,  and  the  plaintive  song  of  the 
Greek  peasant  woman,  who  rocks  her  infant  upon  the  roof  of  her 
cottage.  How  charming  this  place  would  have  appeared  to  me 
six  months  ago  ! 

I  met,  in  a  pathway  of  the  high  mountains  of  Rhodes,  a  Cy- 
pnot  chief,  habited  as  a  European,  but  bonneted  according  to 
the  Greek  fashion,  and  wearing  a  long  white  beard.  I  recog¬ 
nized  him  :  he  is  named  Theseus,  is  a  nephew  of  the  Patriarch 
of  Cyprus,  and  distinguished  himself  in  the  war  of  independence. 
On  his  return  to  Cyprus,  after  the  pacification  of  the  Morea,  his 
name,  his  spirit,  his  activity,  acquired  for  him  the  attachment  of 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


185 


the  whole  Greek  population  of  the  island.  At  the  period  of  the 
insurrection  which  had  lately  taken  place,  the  peasants  of  the 
several  mountains  placed  themselves  under  his  command  ;  he 
used  his  influence  to  calm  them  ;  and  after  having,  in  conjunc¬ 
tion  with  M.  Bottu,  the  French  Consul,  obtained  redress  for  some 
of  their  grievances,  he  dispersed  his  troop,  and  took  refuge  in  the 
Consulate  from  the  vengeance  of  the  Turks.  A  Greek  vessel 
had  dropped  him  at  Rhodes,  where  he  was  not  in  safety.  I 
offered  him  accommodation  in  one  of  my  brigs,  which  he  accept¬ 
ed  ;  and  I  shall  transport  him  to  Constantinople,  to  Greece,  or  to 
Europe,  at  his  own  choice.  He  is  a  man  who  has  constantly 
hazarded  his  life  and  fortune  upon  the  cast  of  a  die  ;  a  man  of 
fiery  spirit  and  brilliant  courage  ;  speaking  all  languages,  know¬ 
ing  all  countries,  possessing  inexhaustible  funds  of  interesting 
conversation,  as  prompt  in  action  as  in  thought — one  of  those 
men  with  whom  motion  is  nature  ;  and  who,  like  birds  of  the 
storm,  rise  with  the  whirlwinds  of  revolutions,  to  fall  again  with 
the  return  of  repose.  Nature  casts  but  few  souls  in  such  a 
mould  :  men  thus  constituted  are  generally  unfortunate — they 
are  feared  and  persecuted  ;  but  they  might  make  admirable  in¬ 
struments  if  one  knew  how  to  employ  them  with  effect.  I  have 
sent  a  bark  to  Marmorizza,  to  carry  thither  a  young  Greek,  who 
will  there  await  my  horses,  and  give  orders  to  my  sais  to  join  me 
at  Constantinople.  We  have  determined  to  go  by  sea,  visiting 
the  islands  of  the  Asiatic  coast,  and  the  shores  of  the  Continent. 

Set  sail  at  midnight  with  a  light  wind  ;  doubled  Cape  Krio 
on  the  evening  of  the  first  day  ;  fine  and  easy  navigation  between 
the  islands  of  Piscopia,  Nisyra,  and  the  enchanted  island  of  Cos, 
the  country  of  Esculapius.  Next  to  Rhodes,  Cos  appears  to  me 
the  most  smiling  and  agreeable  island  of  the  Archipelago  :  charm¬ 
ing  villages,  sheltered  by  beautiful  palm  trees,  line  its  shores ; 
the  town  is  cheerful,  and  elegantly  built.  In  the  evening  we 
were  almost  lost,  with  our  two  brigs,  in  the  midst  of  a  labyrinth 
of  little  uninhabited  islands,  carpeted  to  the  water’s  edge  with 
long  grass;  beautiful  channels  flow  amongst  them,  and  almost  all 
have  little  creeks,  in  which  vessels  might  cast  anchor.  What  an 
enchanting  residence  for  those  men  who  complain  that  they  can¬ 
not  find  room  in  Europe  !  It  has  the  climate  and  the  fertility  of 
Rhodes  and  of  Cos.  At  the  distance  of  two  leagues  lies  an  im¬ 
mense  continent,  between  which  and  those  islands  we  tacked 
about  incessantly,  and  saw  the  sun  glittering  upon  the  magnifi¬ 
cent  ruins  of  the  Grecian  and  Roman  cities  of  Asia  Minor.  The 


186 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


next  morning  we  awoke  in  the  Boghaz,  a  strait  of  Samos,  between 
that  island  and  the  isle  of  Ikaria  ;  the  lofty  mountain,  which  itself 
forms  almost  the  whole  island  of  Samos,  rose  above  our  heads, 
covered  with  rocks  and  forests  of  firs;  among  the  rocks  we 
observed  women  and  children  ;  the  population  of  Samos,  at  pre¬ 
sent  in  rebellion  against  the  Turks,  had  sought  refuge  on  the 
mountain.  The  men  were  armed  in  the  city  and  upon  the 
coasts. 

Samos  resembles  a  mountain  of  the  Lake  of  Lucerne,  illu¬ 
mined  by  the  sky  of  Asia.  Its  base  almost  joins  the  continent, 
from  which  it  is  separated  only  by  a  narrow  channel.  A  storm 
carried  us  into  the  gulf  of  Scala-Nova,  not  far  from  the  ruins  of 
Ephesus.  In  the  morning  we  entered  the  channel  of  Scio,  and 
sought  an  asylum  in  the  road  of  Tschesme,  celebrated  for  the 
destruction  of  the  Ottoman  fleet  by  Orloff.  The  delightful  island 
of  Scio  extends,  like  a  green  hill,  on  the  opposite  side  of  a  large 
river :  its  white  houses,  its  towns  and  villages,  grouped  upon  its 
umbrageous  slopes,  glitter  amongst  the  orange  trees  and  vines ; 
its  remains  bespeak'a  recent  state  of  prosperity  and  a  numerous 
population.  The  Turkish  dominion,  although  it  had  nearly  re¬ 
duced  the  Greek  population  of  these  beautiful  islands  to  slavery, 
had  not  been  able  to  stifle  their  active,  industrious,  commercial 
and  agricultural  energies.  I  know  of  no  place  in  Europe  which 
has  a  richer  appearance  than  Scio  ;  it  is  a  garden  of  sixty  leagues 
in  circumference. 

A  day’s  voyage  brought  us  to  the  ruins  and  mineral  waters  of 
Tschesme. 

The  sea  having  become  calm,  we  set  sail  for  Smyrna;  the 
wind  was  variable  throughout  the  day,  and  we  slowly  threaded 
the  coast  of  Scio  ;  the  woods  descend  to  the  sea.  All  the  towns 
of  the  bays  are  fortified,  and  have  their  ports  filled  with  small 
vessels ;  the  smallest  creek  has  its  village  ;  an  innumerable  mul¬ 
titude  of  boats  skirt  the  shores,  conveying  the  Greeks,  women  and 
girls,  to  their  churches ;  on  every  eminence,  and  in  all  the  val¬ 
leys  between  the  hills,  may  be  seen  a  village  or  its  white  church. 
We  doubled  the  point  of  the  island,  and  were  wafted  by  a  brisk 
wind  into  the  Gulf  of  Smyrna,  enjoying  till  night  closed  in  the 
prospect  of  the  fine  forests  and  large  villages  which  line  its  west¬ 
ern  coast.  At  night  we  were  becalmed  at  no  great  distance  from 
the  Isles  of  Bourla,  and  were  able  to  distinguish  the  fires  of  the 
French  fleet,  which  had  been  at  anchor  there  for  the  last  six 
months. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


187 


In  the  morning  we  came  within  sight  o*f  Smyrna,  embosomed 
by  cypress  trees,  and  reclining  on  the  descent  of  a  considerable 
hill  at  the  extremity  of  the  gulf.  High  embattled  walls  crown 
the  upper  part  of  the  town,  and  a  finely  wooded  plain  extends  on 
the  left  as  far  as  the  mountains.  There  flows  the  river  Meles  ! 
In  my  mind  the  remembrance  of  Homer  hovers  over  all  the  shore 
of  Smyrna  ;  my  eyes  seek  that  tree  on  the  margin  of  the  river, 
then  unknown,  where  the  poor  slave  deposited  her  offspring  amongst 
the  rushes ;  that  child,  whose  fame  should  one  day  immortalize 
the  name  of  the  river,  the  continent,  and  the  islands.  That  ima¬ 
gination  which  Heaven  then  gave  to  the  earth,  was  to  reflect  to 
us  all  antiquity,  divine  and  human ;  he  was  abandoned  at  his  birth 
on  the  banks  of  a  river  as  the  Moses  of  Poetry ;  he  lived  blind 
and  miserable,  like  those  Indian  deities  who  traversed  the  world 
in  the  attire  of  mendicants,  and  were  only  recognized  for  gods 
after  their  passage.  Modern  erudition  affects  not  to  see  a  man, 
but  a  type  in  Homer  ;  this  is  one  of  the  hundred  thousand  para¬ 
doxes  with  which  learning  attempts  to  combat  the  evidence  of  our 
internal  convictions  ;  to  me  Homer  is  a  single  man — a  man 
speaking  throughout  with  one  accent  of  voice,  one  form  of  lan¬ 
guage,  and  one  expression  of  feeling.  To  admit  a  race  of  Ho¬ 
meric  men,  appears  to  be  more  difficult  than  to  admit  a  race  of 
giants  ;  nature  does  not  produce  her  prodigies  in  series  ;  she  gave 
us  Homer,  and  defies  after-ages  to  exhibit  another  such  specimen 
of  the  combination  of  reason,  philosophy,  sensibility,  and  genius. 

I  disembarked  at  Smyrna,  to  make  the  circuit  of  the  town  and 
its  environs  in  company  with  M.  Salzani,  a  resident  banker  and 
merchant — a  gentleman  as  kind-hearted  as  he  is  agreeable  and 
well-informed  ;  during  three  days  I  took  advantage  of  his  hospi¬ 
tality,  but  returned  each  night  to  sleep  on  board  the  brig. 
Smyrna  in  no  respect  resembles  an  eastern  town  ;  it  is  a  large 
and  elegant  factory,  where  the  European  consuls  and  merchants 
lead  the  life  of  Paris  and  London.  The  view  from  the  top  of  the 
hill  over  the  gulf  and  city  is  beautiful ;  on  descending  the  hill,  to 
the  margin  of  the  river,  which  I  like  to  believe  to  be  the  Meles, 
we  were  delighted  with  the  situation  of  the  bridge  of  the  caravans, 
very  near  one  of  the  gates  of  the  town.  The  river  is  limpid, 
slumbering  under  a  peaceful  arch  of  sycamores  and  cypresses ; 
we  seated  ourselves  on  its  bank,  and  the  Turks  brought  us  pipes 
and  coffee.  If  this  stream  heard  the  first  wailings  of  Horner,  I 
love  to  hear  its  gentle  murmu rings  amongst  the  roots  of  the  palm 
trees ;  I  raise  its  waters  to  my  lips — I  bathe  my  burning  fore- 


188 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


head  in  them.  Oh!  might  that  man  appear  for  the  Western 
world  who  should  weave  its  history,  its  dreams,  and  its  heaven 
into  an  epic  !  Such  a  poem  is  the  sepulchre  of  times  gone  by,  to 
which  posterity  comes  to  venerate  deceased  traditions,  and  eter¬ 
nalize  by  its  worship  the  great  actions  and  sublime  thoughts  of 
human  nature :  its  author  engraves  his  name  on  the  pedestal  of 
the  statue  which  he  erects  to  man,  and  he  lives  in  all  the  ideas 
with  which  he  enriches  the  world  of  imagination. 

This  evening  I  was  taken  to  visit  M.  Fauvel,  formerly  our 
consul  in  Greece,  who  now  lives  alone  with  two  Greek  servants 
in  a  small  house  on  the  quay  of  Smyrna  ;  the  staircase,  hall,  and 
apartments  are  full  of  fragments  of  sculpture,  plans  of  Athens  in  . 
relief,  and  broken  blocks  of  marble  and  porphyry.  Expelled 
from  Athens,  his  adopted  country,  the  dust  of  which  he  had  been 
sweeping  all  his  life  to  restore  its  treasures  to  the  world,  M.  Fau¬ 
vel  now  lives  poor  and  unknown  at  Smyrna ;  thither  he  has 
carried  his  gods,  and  pays  them  his  hourly  worship.  M.  de 
Chateaubriand  saw  him  in  his  youth,  happy  in  the  midst  of  the 
splendid  ruins  of  the  Parthenon;  I  have  seen  him  old  and  in 
exile,  wounded  by  the  ingratitude  of  men,  but  firm  and  cheerful 
in  adversity,  and  abounding  in  that  natural  philosophy  which 
enables  those  whose  fortune  is  based  in  the  goodness  of  their 
hearts  to  endure  misfortune  with  patience  ;  I  spent  a  delightful 
hour  in  listening  to  the  conversation  of  this  charming  old  man. 

I  found  at  Smyrna  a  young  man  of  talent,  whom  I  had  known 
in  Italy,  M.  Deschamps,  editor  of  the  Journal  of  Smyrna ;  he 
acknowledged  our  former  acquaintance  with  sensibility.  The 
storm  had  thrown  the  remains  of  St.  Simonianism  upon  Smyrna 
— reduced  to  the  last  extremities,  but  supporting  their  reverses 
with  the  resignation  and  constancy  of  a  firm  conviction,  in  evi¬ 
dence  of  which  I  received  on  board  two  remarkable  letters. 
Novel  ideas  must  not  be  judged  of  by  the  disdain  with  which 
they  inspire  their  contemporaries ;  all  great  thoughts  have  been 
received  as  strangers  in  the  world.  St.  Simonianism  can  boast 
of  something  which  is  true,  great,  and  fruitful, — the  application 
of  Christianity  to  political  society,  and  to  legislation  for  the  human 
fraternity.  In  this  point  of  view  I  am  a  St.  Simonian  ;  it  was 
not  in  ideas  that  this  eclipsed,  but  not  deceased  sect,  was  wanting  ; 
neither  was  it  deficient  in  disciples ;  that  which  it  did  want,  was, 
in  my  opinion,  a  chief,  a  master,  a  regulator.  I  doubt  not  that  if 
a  man  of  genius  and  virtue,  a  man  who  with  a  penetrating  and 
sagacious  glance,  could  at  once  take  in  the  whole  horizon,  reli- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


189 


gious  and  political,  had  been  placed  at  the  head  of  these  nascent 
opinions,  he  would  have  metamorphosed  them  into  a  powerful 
reality.  The  time  of  the  anarchy  of  opinions  is  the  favorable 
season  for  the  germination  of  new  and  important  thoughts;  so¬ 
ciety,  in  the  eyes  of  a  philosopher,  is  then  in  a  moment  of  rout ; 
it  has  neither  government,  object,  nor  chief;  it  is  reduced  to  the 
instinct  of  conversion.  A  religious,  moral,  social  and  political 
sect,  having  a  standard,  a  rule  of  order,  an  object,  a  chief,  a 
spirit  of  intelligence,  and  marching  compact  and  direct  in  front 
of  that  society,  and  in  the  midst  of  its  disordered  ranks,  would 
inevitably  command  victory  ;  but  salvation,  and  not  ruin,  should 
be  the  result  of  its  operations  ;  it  should  attack  the  hurtful  only, 
and  not  the  serviceable;  recall  religion  to  reason  and  love,  poli¬ 
tics  to  the  Christian  fraternity,  property  to  charity  and  universal 
utility,  its  only  title  and  basis  ; — but  a  legislator  was  wanting  to 
these  young  men,  ardently  zealous,  longing  for  faith,  but  amongst 
whom  the  wildest  doctrines  were  propagated  :  the  organizers  of 
St.  Simonianism  have  taken  for  their  chief  motto,  “  War,  without 
quarter,  between  family  ties,  property,  religion,  and  us,”  and 
they  necessarily  fell.  The  world  is  not  to  be  conquered  by  the 
force  of  a  word  :  it  may  be  moved,  it  may  be  converted,  it  may 
be  moulded,  it  may  be  changed  ;  but,  inasmuch  as  an  idea  is  not 
practicable,  it  is  not  presentable  to  society;  human  nature  pro¬ 
ceeds  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  but  not  from  the  known 
to  the  absurd.  This  will  be  resumed  as  an  under-plot  to  the 
great  revolutions  yet  in  futurity  ;  signs  are  to  be  seen  upon  the 
earth,  and  in  the  heavens;  the  St.  Simonians  have  been  one  of 
these  signs:  they  will  dissolve  themselves  as  a  body,  but  as  indi¬ 
viduals  will  hereafter  become  the  soldiers  and  chiefs  of  the  new 
army. 

Sailing  out  of  the  Gulf  of  Smyrna  with  all  our  canvas  set, 
when  we  had  made  the  height  of  Vourla,  and  were  pursuing  a 
straight  course  at  the  mouth  of  the  gulf,  we  grounded  on  a  sand¬ 
bank,  through  the  unskillfulness  of  a  Greek  pilot.  The  vessel  re¬ 
ceived  a  shock  which  made  her  masts  quiver,  and  remained  im¬ 
movable  three  leagues  from  land,  the  swelling  waves  breaking 
against  her  sides.  We  all  hurried  upon  deck  ;  what  a  moment 
of  calm  yet  awful  anxiety  was  that,  while  so  many  lives  awaited 
their  sentence,  suspended  on  the  uncertain  success  of  the  manoeu¬ 
vres  that  were  attempted.  A  perfect  silence  reigned — no  sign  of 
terror  wTas  exhibited  ;  on  great  occasions  man  is  great !  After  a 
few  minutes  of  powerless  efforts,  the  wind  arose  to  our  aid  and 

9* 


VOL.  II. 


190 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND 


turned  us  upon  our  keel.  The  brig  disengaged  herself  and  no 
leak  was  perceptible.  We  entered  on  the  expanse  of  ocean,  the 
Island  of  Mitylene  on  our  right ;  and  after  a  delightful  day’s  sail, 
approached  the  channel  which  separates  the  island  from  the  con¬ 
tinent  ;  but  the  wind  sank,  the  clouds  gathered  over  the  open  sea, 
and  at  nightfall  the  wind  and  thunder  burst  from  them  together  ; 
a  furious  tempest  and  total  darkness  ensued,  the  two  brigs  firing 
signals  of  recognition  and  seeking  the  road  of  Foglieri,  the  an¬ 
cient  Phocea,  between  the  rocks  which  form  the  northern  point  of 
the  Gulf  of  Smyrna.  In  two  hours  the  force  of  the  wind  drove 
us  ten  leagues  along  the  coast,  one  clap  of  thunder  every  moment 
succeeding  another,  and  whizzing  through  the  surges ;  while  the 
sky,  the  sea,  and  the  echoing  rocks  of  the  coast  were  illuminated 
by  continual  flashes  of  lightning,  which  supplied  the  place  of  day, 
and  from  time  to  time  afforded  us  glimpses  of  our  route.  The 
two  brigs  almost  touched,  and  we  trembled  in  momentary  dread 
of  a  collision  ;  at  length  a  manoeuvre  of  extreme  daring  in  the 
obscurity  of  night  harbored  us  safely  in  the  narrow  mouth  of  the 
road  of  Phocea ;  we  heard  the  waves  bellowing  against  the  rocks 
to  the  right  and  left-;  a  false  stroke  of  the  helm  would  have  thrown 
us  a  wreck  upon  them ;  we  all  stood  mute  upon  the  deck,  waiting 
the  decision  of  our  fate ;  the  night  was  so  dark  that  we  could  not 
distinguish  our  own  masts  ;  suddenly  we  felt  the  brig  glide  over 
a  motionless  surface;  a  few  lights  shone  round  us  upon  the  out¬ 
line  of  the  basin,  which  we  had  happily  entered,  and  we  cast 
anchor  without  knowing  where.  The  wind  roared  the  whole  night 
against  our  masts  and  through  our  yards,  as  though  it  would  have 
carried  them  away,  but  the  sea  was  motionless. 

How  beautiful  is  the  basin  of  the  ancient  Phocea !  Half  a 
league  in  circumference,  it  is  hollowed  like  a  circular  fortress  be¬ 
tween  hills,  whose  graceful  slopes  are  interspersed  with  red-painted 
houses,  cottages  shaded  by  olive  trees,  gardens,  creeping  vines, 
and  especially  with  fields  of  magnificent  cypresses,  under  the 
shade  of  which  repose  the  white  tombs  of  the  Turkish  cemeteries. 
We  landed  to  visit  the  ruins  of  that  city  which  gave  birth  to  Mar¬ 
seilles  ;  were  graciously  welcomed,  entertained  in  two  Turkish 
houses,  and  passed  the  day  in  their  orange  gardens.  The  third 
day  the  sea  calmed,  and  at  midnight  we  sailed  from  the  natural 
haven  of  Phocea. 

17th  May,  1833. 

We  followed  the  whole  day  the  Channel  of  Mitylene,  where 
Lesbos  stood,  a  poetical  memorial  of  the  only  woman  of  antiqui- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


191 


ty  whose  voice  had  power  enough  to  make  itself  heard  through 
the  lapse  of  centuries.  Only  a  few  of  Sappho’s  verses  have  de¬ 
scended  to  us,  but  they  give  evidence  of  a  genius  of  the  highest 
order ;  as  a  fragment  of  the  arm  or  the  body  from  a  statue  by 
Phidias  reveals  the  perfection  of  the  entire  figure.  The  heart 
from  which  Sappho’s  stanzas  flowed  must  have  been  a  deep  well- 
spring  of  passions  and  of  images.  The  Isle  of  Lesbos  is  to  me 
even  more  beautiful  than  that  of  Scio.  Its  high  and  verdant  hills, 
pinnacled  with  firs,  are  more  lofty  and  more  picturesquely  grouped. 
Their  ridges,  overhanging  a  broader  expanse  of  inland  sea  formed 
by  its  capacious  bay,  and  so  closely  overlooking  Asia,  are  more 
solitary  and  more  inaccessible  :  instead  of  the  numerous  villages 
which  overspread  the  gardens  of  Scio,  here  the  smoke  from  a 
Greek  cottage  curling  upwards  between  the  heads  of  chestnut 
trees  and  cypresses,  or  a  few  shepherds  on  a  point  of  a  rock, 
tending  large  flocks  of  white  goats,  are  objects  but  rarely  seen. 
In  the  evening  we  doubled  with  a  favorable  wind  the  northern 
extremity  of  Mitylene,  and  perceived  in  the  horizon  before  us,  two 
dark  spots  upon  the  crimson  vapor  of  the  sea — Lemnos  and  Ten- 
edos. 

Same  date. 

It  is  midnight  ;  the  sea  smooth  as  a  sheet  of  ice,  the  becalmed 
brig  hovering  like  a  shadow  upon  its  sparkling  surface.  Tene- 
dos  springing  from  its  waves  on  our  left,  conceals  the  open  sea  ; 
nearer,  and  to  the  right,  extends  like  a  dark  barrier,  the  low  and 
indented  shore  of  the  plain  of  Troy.  The  full  moon,  rising  over 
the  snow-capped  summit  of  Mount  Ida,  diffuses  a  serene  but  un¬ 
certain  light  over  the  mountain-tops,  the  hills,  and  the  plain  ;  then 
beaming  upon  the  sea,  tinges  its  quiet  waves  with  her  mild  efful¬ 
gence,  under  the  very  side  of  our  vessel,  converting  its  surface  into 
a  bright  area  upon  which  no  shadow  may  dare  to  glide.  We  dis¬ 
tinguished  the  tumuli  or  little  conical  mounds  which  tradition  as- 

o 

signs  as  the  tombs  of  Homer  and  Patroclus.  The  broad  red  moon 
glancing  over  the  undulations  of  the  hills,  resembles  the  ensan- 

i  i  c _ i 

guined  shield  of  Achilles;  no  light  is  visible  on  all  that  line  of 
coast,  except  a  distant  fire  lighted  by  the  shepherds  on  the  ridge 
of  Ida ;  no  sound  meets  our  ear  except  the  dull  flapping  of  the 
sail,  which  untouched  by  the  lightest  breeze,  is  occasionally  beat¬ 
en  against  the  main-yard  by  the  wavering  of  the  mast ;  the  im¬ 
age  of  the  death  which  passed  over  the  ages  of  its  glory,  seems 
impressed  upon  this  still  and  melancholy  scene.  Leaning  over 
the  shrouds  of  the  vessel,  that  land,  those  mountains,  those  ruins, 


192 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


those  tombs,  rise  before  me,  with  their  vaporous  forms  and  unde¬ 
cided  outlines,  under  the  sleeping  and  silent  rays  of  the  planet  of 
night,  like  the  shadowy  apparition  of  a  past  world  evoked  from 
the  bosom  of  the  sea,  and  vanishing  as  the  moon  sinks  behind  the 
summits  of  other  mountains ;  it  is  an  additional  bright  page  to 
the  Homeric  poem  ;  it  is  the  consummation  of  all  poems  and  of 
all  history  ;  unknown  tombs,  ruins  without  any  certain  names,  a 
dark  and  naked  soil,  confusedly  illuminated  by  immortal  stars; 
and  new  spectators  passing  with  indifference  before  those  shores, 
and  repeating  for  the  thousandth  time  the  epitaph  of  all  things. 
Here  lie  an  empire,  a  city,  a  people,  heroes  !  God  alone  is  great, 
and  the  thoughts  which  search  Him  out  and  adore  Him  are  alone 

O 

imperishable  ! 

I  feel  no  desire  to  visit  nearer,  and  by  day,  the  doubtful  re¬ 
mains  of  the  ruins  of  Troy;  I  prefer  this  nocturnal  apparition 
which  permits  the  fancy  to  re-people  the  desolate  wastes,  and  is 
lighted  only  by  the  pale  lamp  of  the  moon  and  by  the  poetry  of 
Homer.  Besides,  what  care  I  for  Troy,  her  gods,  or  her  heroes? 
That  page  of  the  heroic  is  turned  for  ever.  * 

The  land  breeze  begins  to  spring  up,  and  we  take  advantage  of 
it  to  make  for  the  Dardanelles.  Already  several  considerable 
vessels  are  seeking  like  ourselves  that  difficult  entrance  near  us; 
their  large  gray  sails,  like  the  wings  of  night-birds,  glide  silently 
between  us  and  Tenedos.  I  descended  to  the  mid-deck  and  slept. 

1 7th  May,  1833. 

Waking  with  the  day,  I  heard  the  rapid  track  of  the  vessel, 
and  the  small  moving  waves  murmuring  like  the  songs  of  birds 
about  the  sides  of  the  vessel :  opening  the  port-hole,  I  discovered, 
upon  a  chain  of  low  and  rounded  hills,  the  castles  of  the  Darda¬ 
nelles  with  their  white  walls,  their  towers  and  immense  loop¬ 
holes  for  cannon.  The  channel  is  in  this  part  scarce  a  league 
in  breadth,  winding  like  a  beautiful  and  expansive  river  between 
the  perfectly  similar  coasts  of  Asia  and  Europe.  The  castles 
close  this  sea  like  the  two  leaves  of  a  gate  ;  but  in  the  present 
state  of  Turkey  and  of  Europe,  it  would  be  easy  either  to  force 
the  passage  by  sea,  or  to  make  a  descent  and  surprise  the  forts 
from  behind  ;  the  passage  of  the  Dardanelles  is  impregnable  only 
when  guarded  by  the  Russians. 

The  rapid  current  bore  us  with  the  swiftness  of  an  arrow 
past  Gallipoli  and  the  villages  bordering  the  channel  ;  we  saw 
the  Isles  of  the  Sea  of  Marmora  frowning  before  us  ;  and  followed 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


193 


the  European  coast  for  two  days  and  nights  with  a  contrary  wind 
from  the  north.  The  next  morning  we  saw  the  Isles  of  Princes 
at  the  extremity  of  the  sea  of  Marmora,  in  the  bay  of  Nicee,  and 
on  our  left  the  Castle  of  the  Seven  Towers,  and  the  aerial  pinna¬ 
cles  of  the  innumerable  minarets  of  Stamboul,  which  present  them¬ 
selves  in  front  of  the  seven  hills  of  Constantinople.  Every  tack 
brought  us  nearer  to  them  and  discovered  new  ones.  This  first 
view  of  Constantinople  produced  upon  me  a  painful  impression  of 
surprise  and  of  the  dissolution  of  a  pleasing  spell.  “  What!” 
said  I  to  myself,  “  are  these  the  seas,  the  shores,  the  wondrous 
city  for  which  the  masters  of  the  world  abandoned  Rome  and  the 
coast  of  Naples  ?  This  the  metropolis  of  the  universe,  seated  upon 
Europe  and  upon  Asia — for  which  all  conquering  nations  al¬ 
ternately  contended,  as  a  sign  of  the  royalty  of  the  world  !  This 
the  town  which  painters  and  poets  delineate  as  the  Queen  of 
Cities  hovering  over  her  hills  and  her  double  sea,  encompassed 
with  her  gulfs,  her  towers,  her  mountains,  and  comprehending  all 
the  treasures  of  nature,  and  of  Oriental  luxury!  Is  it  to  this  that 
the  Bay  of  Naples  is  compared,  with  her  vast  ampitheatre  and 
resplendent  city  ;  Vesuvius  at  her  side,  his  golden  summit  lost 
in  clouds  of  smoke  and  purple  ;  the  forests  of  Castelamare  dip¬ 
ping  their  dark  foliage  in  an  azure  sea  ;  and  the  Isles  of  Procida  and 
Ischia,  with  their  volcanic  peaks,  and  their  slopes  yellow  with 
vines  and  whitened  with  villas,  shutting  in  the  ample  bay  like  gi¬ 
gantic  moles  thrown  out  by  the  Deity  himself  at  the  mouth  of  that 
glorious  haven  !  I  see  nothing  here  to  vie  with  that  scene  which 
has  made  an  indelible  impression  upon  my  eyes  and  upon  my  mind. 
I  am  sailing,  indeed,  upon  a  smooth  and  beautiful  sea,  but  its 
shores  are  flat,  or  rising  in  monotnoous  and  rounded  hills  ;  the 
snows  of  Olympus  and  Thrace  are  embraced  in  the  horizon,  but 
forming  only  a  white  cloud  in  the  sky,  are  too  distant  to  impart  sub¬ 
limity  to  the  landscape.  The  prospect  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
gulf  offers  only  similar  rounded  hills  of  the  same  level,  without 
rocks,  ravine,  or  hollows  ;  and  Constantinople,  to  which  the  pilot 
pointed  with  his  finger,  is  itself  no  more  than  a  circumscribed 
white  city  built  on  a  hillock  of  the  European  coast.  Was  it 
worth  while  to  come  so  far  in  search  of  disappointment  ?  I  would 
look  no  longer. — Meanwhile  the  endless  tackings  of  the  vessel 
brought  us  sensibly  nearer;  we  skirted  the  Castle  of  the  Seven 
Towers — a  prodigious  mass  of  building  in  the  severe  and  frown¬ 
ing  style  of  the  middle  ages,  which  flanks  towards  the  sea  the 
angle  of  the  Greek  walls  of  ancient  Byzantium.  We  anchored 


194 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


under  the  houses  of  Stamboul  in  the  sea  of  Marmora,  amidst  a 
throng  of  ships  and  boats  detained  like  ourselves  outside  the  port 
by  the  violence  of  the  north  wind. 

It  was  five  in  the  afternoon  ;  the  sky  was  serene,  and  the  sun 
bright ;  I  began  to  recover  from  my  disdain  of  Constantinople  ; 
the  inclosing  walls  of  this  part  of  the  city,  picturesquely  built 
with  the  ruins  of  ancient  walls,  and  surmounted  with  gardens, 
kiosks,  and  little  red-painted  wooden  pavilions,  formed  the  fore¬ 
ground  of  the  picture  :  above  these  rose  terraces  of  houses  with¬ 
out  number,  stage  above  stage,  in  pyramids  of  steps,  intercepted 
by  the  heads  of  orange  trees,  and  the  dark  arrowy  points  of  cy¬ 
presses; — in  the  distant  perspective,  seven  or  eight  magnificent 
mosques  crowned  the  height ;  and,  flanked  by  their  lightly  sculp¬ 
tured  minarets  and  Moorish  colonnades,  carried  to  the  sky  their 
gilded  domes,  blazing  with  the  reflection  of  the  sun  ;  the  walls  of 
these  mosques,  painted  of  a  soft  azure,  and  the  lead  coverings  of 
their  cupolas,  give  them  the  appearance  and  transparent  varnish 
of  porcelain  monuments.  Beside  these  domes  appeared  the  mo¬ 
tionless  and  sombre  heads  of  numerous  cypresses;  while  the 
houses  of  the  town,  painted  in  various  hues,  made  the  vast  hill 
shine  with  all  the  colors  of  a  flower  garden.  No  noise  arose 
from  the  streets;  no  grating  of  the  innumerable  windows  was  heard; 
no  movement  betrayed  the  habitation  of  so  great  a  multitude  ;  all 
appeared  asleep  under  the  scorching  orb  of  day;  the  gulf  alone, 
tracked  on  every  side  by  sails  of  all  forms  and  dimensions,  gave 
signs  of  life.  We  saw  vessels,  in  full  sail,  every  moment  clear¬ 
ing  the  Golden  Horn  (the  opening  of  the  Bosphorus),  the  true 
harbor  of  Constantinople,  hastening  past  us,  and  flying  towards 
the  Dardanelles,  but  we  could  not  perceive  the  entrance  of  the 
Bosphorus,  nor  even  understand  its  situation.  We  dined  oil  deck 
facing  this  magical  spectacle  ;  Turkish  caiques  came  to  question 
us,  and  to  bring  us  provisions ;  the  boatmen  told  us  the  plague 
had  almost  disappeared.  I  forwarded  my  letters  into  the  city; 
at  seven  o’clock,  M.  Turqui,  the  Sardinian  consul-general,  accom¬ 
panied  by  the  officers  of  the  Legation,  came  to  pay  us  a  visit, 
and  offered  us  hospitality  in  his  house  at  Pera  ;  there  was  no 
possibility  of  procuring  a  lodging  in  the  city,  which  had  recently 
been  devastated  by  fire  ;  and  M.  Turqui’s  obliging  cordiality,  and 
the  attraction  we  found  in  his  first  address,  induced  us  to  accept 
his  invitation.  The  contrary  wind  still  prevailed,  and  the  brigs 
could  not  weigh  anchor  that  evening  ;  we  therefore  slept  on  board. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


1S5 


20th  May,  1833. 

At  five  o’clock  I  was  standing  on  the  deck,  when  the  captain 
ordered  a  boat  to  be  lowered.  I  descended  with  him,  and  we 
made  for  the  mouth  of  the  Bosphorus,  coasting  the  walls  of  Con¬ 
stantinople,  which  are  washed  by  the  sea.  After  half  an  hour’s 
navigation  through  innumerable  vessels  at  anchor,  we  touched 
at  the  walls  of  the  seraglio,  which  continue  those  of  the  city,  and 
form,  at  the  extremity  of  the  hill  on  which  Stamboul  stands,  the 
angle  separating  the  sea  of  Marmora  from  the  channel  of  the 
Bosphorus  and  the  Golden  Horn,  or  great  interior  harbor  of  Con¬ 
stantinople.  Here  it  is  that  God  and  man,  nature  and  art,  have 
placed,  or  created  in  concert,  the  most  extraordinary  landscape 
that  human  eyes  can  contemplate  upon  earth.  I  uttered  an  in¬ 
voluntary  exclamation,  and  obliterated  for  ever  from  the  tablets 
of  my  mind  the  Bay  of  Naples  with  all  its  enchantments.  To 
compare  any  thing  with  such  a  concentration  of  loveliness  and 
magnificence  is  to  wrong  creation. 

A  few  paces  distant  on  the  left  frowned  the  walls,  supporting 
the  circular  terraces  that  bound  the  spacious  garden  of  the  grand 
seraglio,  separated  from  the  sea  by  a  narrow  flagged  footway, 
continually  washed  by  the  perpetual  current  of  the  Bosphorus,  in 
little  blue  rippling  waves,  like  the  waters  of  the  Rhone  at  Geneva. 
The  terraces,  which  rise  in  insensible  slopes  to  the  sultan’s  pa¬ 
lace,  whose  gilded  domes  are  discernible  through  the  gigantic 
heads  of  palm  trees  and  cypresses,  are  themselves  planted  with 
similar  trees,  whose  huge  trunks  tower  above  the  walls,  while 
their  branches,  scorning  the  boundaries  of  the  gardens,  overhang 
the  sea  with  thick  canopies  of  foliage,  and  shadow  the  caiques. 
Our  rowers  suspended  their  oars  occasionally  under  their  shade. 
Here  and  there  these  groups  of  trees  are  broken  by  palaces,  pa¬ 
vilions,  kiosks,  gilt  and  sculptured  gates  opening  upon  the  sea  ; 
or  batteries  of  copper  and  bronze  cannon,  of  antique  and  uncouth 
forms.  The  grated  windows  of  these  maritime  palaces  overlook 
the  sea,  and  glimpses  may  now  and  then  be  caught  of  the  lustres 
and  gilt  ceilings  of  the  apartments,  sparkling  through  the  Vene¬ 
tian  blinds  ;  while  at  every  step  elegant  Moorish  fountains,  spring¬ 
ing  from  the  seraglio  walls,  fall  murmuring  from  the  height  of 
the  gardens  into  marble  conches,  from  which  the  passers-by  may 
quench  their  thirst.  A  few  Turkish  soldiers  lie  stretched  at  their 
ease  beside  these  fountains,  while  numbers  of  masterless  dogs  are 
wandering  along  the  quay,  and  some  of  them  sleeping  in  the  can¬ 
nons’  mouths,  which  are  of  enormous  calibre.  As  the  boat  ad- 


196 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


vancecl  along  these  walls,  the  prospect  expanded  before  us  ;  we 
neared  the  Asiatic  coast,  and  the  eye  began  to  trace  the  mouth  of 
the  Bosphorus  between  a  line  of  sombre  hills  and  an  opposite 
range,  which  appeared  to  be  painted  in  all  the  tints  of  the  rain¬ 
bow.  Here  we  again  rested  :  the  smiling  coast  of  Asia,  only 
about  a  mile  distant,  was  sketched  to  our  right,  its  broad  and 
high  hills  standing  forward  in  relief,  crowned  with  black  forests 
of  sharp-pointed  trees  ;  the  champaign  was  fringed  with  trees, 
and  studded  with  red-painted  houses — the  perpendicular  sides  of 
the  ravines,  tapestried  with  verdant  plants  and  sycamores,  whose 
branches  dipped  in  the  stream.  Farther  off,  the  hills  were  still 
loftier,  then  declined  in  green  slopes  till  they  formed  a  large 
advanced  cape,  bearing  on  its  brow  the  considerable  town  of 
Scutari,  with  its  white  barracks,  resembling  a  royal  chateau — its 
mosques,  with  their  glittering  minarets — its  quays  and  its  creeks, 
bordered  with  houses,  bazaars,  and  caiques,  under  the  shade  of 
trellises  or  of  palm  trees  ;  and,  in  the  back-ground,  its  dark  and 
gloomy  forest  of  cypress  trees,  through  the  branches  of  which 
glimmered  with  lugubrious  splendor  the  innumerable  white 
monuments  of  the  Turkish  cemeteries.  Beyond  the  point  of 
Scutari,  terminated  by  an  islet,  called  The  Maiden’s  Tomb ,  on 
which  is  a  Turkish  chapel,  the  Bosphorus,  like  a  pent-up  river, 
seems  to  escape  between  dark  and  rocky  mountains,  of  which  the 
multiform  angles,  projected  or  inflexed,  the  ravines  and  forests 
of  one  coast,  appear  to  answer  those  of  the  other  ;  and  at  the  foot 
of  which  is  discovered,  in  the  distant  perspective,  an  uninterrupt¬ 
ed  chain  of  villages,  fleets  at  anchor  or  in  sail,  little  ports  shaded 
with  trees,  scattered  houses  and  spacious  palaces,  with  their  rose- 
gardens  abutting  upon  the  sea. 

A  few  minutes’  rowing  carried  us  forward  to  that  precise 
point  of  the  Golden  Horn  from  whence  the  eye  may  revel,  at  one 
view,  over  the  Bosphorus,  the  Sea  of  Marmora,  and  the  entire  ha¬ 
ven,  or  more  properly,  the  interior  Sea  of  Constantinople.  There 
we  forgot  Marmora,  the  Asiatic  coast,  and  the  Bosphorus,  to  give 
our  undivided  and  admiring  contemplation  to  the  Golden  Horn, 
and  the  seven  towns  suspended  on  the  seven  hills  of  Constantino¬ 
ple,  all  converging  towards  the  arm  of  the  sea,  which  unites  the 
whole  in  one  unique  and  incomparable  city;  at  once  city,  coun¬ 
try,  seaport,  river-banks,  gardens,  woody  mountains,  profound 
valleys,  throngs  of  houses,  streets  and  masts,  tranquil  lakes  and 
enchanting  solitudes  ;  a  view  of  which  no  pencil  can  delineate 
more  than  by  detached  fragments,  and  of  which,  at  every  stroke 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


197 


of  the  oars,  the  eye  and  the  soul  imbibe  an  entirely  new  aspect 
and  impression. 

We  made  sail  for  the  hills  of  Galata  and  Pera  :  the  seraglio 
retired  from  us,  and  grew  larger  as  it  retired,  in  proportion  as 
the  eye  embraced  a  fuller  scope  of  the  vast  outlines  of  its  walls, 
and  the  multitude  of  its  slopes,  trees,  kiosks,  and  palaces.  Its 
site  alone  would  suffice  for  the  seat  of  a  large  town.  The  port 
advanced,  and  gradually  became  more  developed,  winding,  like  a 
canal,  between  the  sides  of  hanging  mountains.  It  has  no  ap¬ 
pearance  of  a  port ;  but  resembles  rather  that  of  the  Thames,  or 
any  large  river,  enclosed  by  two  hilly  banks  studded  with  towns, 
and  both  shores  choked  with  interminable  fleets  at  anchor  in  front 
of  the  line  of  houses.  We  sailed  through  that  innumerable  host 
of  ships,  some  at  anchor,  others  making  sail  for  the  Bosphorus, 
ihe  Sea  of  Marmora,  or  the  Black  Sea,  comprising  vessels  of  every 
form,  of  every  size,  and  of  all  flags — from  the  Arab  bark,  with  its 
projecting  and  elevated  prow,  similar  to  the  beak  of  the  ancient 
galleys,  to  the  magnificent  three-decker,  with  its  shining  bronze 
walls.  Hundreds  of  Turkish  caiques,  little  boats  which  answer 
the  purpose  of  carriages  upon  the  maritime  streets  of  this  amphibi¬ 
ous  city,  guided  by  one  or  two  rowers  in  silk  sleeves,  were  thread¬ 
ing  their  way  between  the  more  massy  structures,  crossing  each 
other’s  paths,  coming  in  contact  without  being  capsized,  and  el¬ 
bowing  each  other  like  a  crowd  in  the  public  squares ;  while 
clouds  of  albatross,  like  beautiful  white  pigeons,  rose  from  the  sea 
at  their  approach,  flying  to  a  more  distant  station  to  cradle  them¬ 
selves  upon  the  waves.  I  cannot  attempt  to  reckon  the  vessels, 
the  frigates,  brigs,  sloops,  and  boats,  which,  moving  or  stationary, 
cover  the  waters  of  the  port  of  Constantinople,  from  the  mouth  of 
the  Bosphorus,  and  the  point  of  the  seraglio,  to  the  suburbs  of 
Eyoub,  and  the  delicious  valleys  of  the  sweet  waters.  The 
Thames,  in  London,  offers  nothing  comparable  to  their  number. 
Let  it  suffice  to  say,  that  independently  of  the  Turkish  fleet,  and 
European  men-of-war,  at  anchor  in  the  middle  of  the  channel, 
they  are  ranged  along  both  shores  of  the  Golden  Horn,  two  or 
three  ships  in  depth  on  each  side,  and  in  lines  about  a  league  in 
extent.  We  had  but  a  slight  glimpse  of  those  prolonged  files  of 
prows,  looking  over  the  sea  to  ihe  end  of  die  gulf,  where,  by  the 
contraction  of  its  waters,  the  land  seems  to  inclose  r;n  actual  for¬ 
est  of  masts.  We  landed  at  the  foot  of  the  town  of  Pera,  not  far 
from  a  superb  barrack  of  bombardiers,  the  covered  terraces  of 
which  were  piled  with  ordnance-carriages  and  cannons.  A  beau¬ 
tiful  Moorish  fountain,  constructed  in  the  form  of  an  Indian  pago- 


198 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


da,  of  marble,  painted  in  brilliant  colors,  and  carved  in  relief,  like 
lace  upon  a  basis  of  silk,  poured  its  waters  over  a  small  quadran¬ 
gle  crowded  with  cannon-balls,  articles  of  merchandise,  norses, 
dogs  without  masters,  and  Turks  seated  on  the  ground,  smoking 
in  the  shade.  The  rowers  of  the  caiques  were  seated  in  great 
numbers  on  the  banks  of  the  quay  waiting  for  their  masters,  or 
soliciting  passengers  :  they  are  a  handsome  race  of  men,  whose  fine 
figures  are  well  set  off  by  their  becoming  costume.  They  wear  white 
trowsers,  in  plaits  as  large  as  those  of  a  petticoat,  and  fastened  round 
the  waist  by  a  sash  of  crimson  silk  ;  a  small  Greek  cap  of  red  wors¬ 
ted,  finished  at  top  by  a  long  silk  tassel,  which  hangs  down  behind  the 
head  ;  and  a  loose  shirt  of  raw  silk,  with  large  hanging  sleeves, 
which  covers  their  shoulders  and  arms,  leaving  the  neck  and 
breast  bare.  Their  caiques  are  narrow  canoes,  twenty  or  thirty 
feet  long  by  two  or  three  wide,  of  walnut  wood,  polished  and 
shining  as  mahogony  :  the  prow  is  as  pointed  as  the  head  of  a  lance, 
and  cuts  the  sea  like  a  knife.  The  narrow  shape  of  these  caiques 
renders  them  hazardous  to  Franks  who  are  unaccustomed  to  them  ; 
the  impression  of  an  unskillful  foot  easily  overbalances  and  upsets 
them  ;  to  avoid  which  danger  it  is  necessary  to  lie  down  in  the 
Turkish  fashion  at  the  bottom  of  the  caiques,  and  to  be  careful 
that  the  weight  of  the  body  is  eqally  divided  between  the  two 
sides  of  the  boat.  They  vary  in  size,  so  as  to  contain  from  one 
to  four,  or  even  eight  passengers,  but  all  are  of  the  same  propor¬ 
tions.  They  may  be  counted  by  thousands  in  the  ports  of  Con¬ 
stantinople ;  and  independently  of  those  which,  like  hackney- 
coaches,  are  at  the  service  of  the  public  at  all  hours,  every  in¬ 
dividual  of  the  city,  who  is  in  easy  circumstances,  keeps  one  for 
his  own  use,  the  rowers  of  which  are  his  domestics  ;  every  man 
whose  business  calls  him  to  various  parts  of  the  city  being  obliged 
to  cross  the  sea  several  times  in  the  course  of  the  day. 

Leaving  this  small  square,  we  entered  the  dirty  and  populous 
streets  of  a  bazaar  in  Pera  ;  which,  with  the  exception  of  cos¬ 
tume,  presents  nearly  the  same  appearance  as  the  markets  of  our 
towns ;  wooden  stalls,  displaying  confectionery  and  viands  ;  bar¬ 
bers’  shops,  venders  of  tobacco,  of  vegetables,  and  fruit ;  a  throng¬ 
ing  and  active  crowd  in  the  streets  ;  all  the  costumes,  and  all  the 
tongues  of  the  East  striking  the  eye  and  the  ear ;  and,  above  all, 
the  barking  of  the  numerous  dogs  who  fill  the  squares  and  bazaars, 
and  contend  for  the  remnants  thrown  out  at  the  gates.  From 
thence  we  entered  a  long  solitary  and  narrow  street,  which  rises 
in  a  steep  slope  over  the  hill  of  Pera  ;  the  grated  windows  leave 
nothing  visible  of  the  interior  of  the  Turkish  houses,  which  appear 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


199 


poor  and  deserted  ;  here  and  there  the  green  arrowy  head  of  cy¬ 
press  towers  high  in  the  air  above  an  inclosure  of  gray  walls,  its 
immovable  branches  in  relief  against  a  transparent  sky.  White 
and  blue  doves  are  dispersed  on  the  windows  and  roofs  of  the 
houses,  and  fill  the  silent  streets  with  their  melancholy  cooings. 
At  the  head  of  these  streets  extends  the  boasted  quarter  of  Pera, 
inhabited  by  Europeans,  and  by  the  ambassadors  and  consuls  :  a 
quarter  in  all  respects  similar  to  a  poor  little  town  of  our  pro¬ 
vinces.  A  few  noble  palaces  of  the  embassies  once  crowned  the 
sloping  terraces  of  Galata  :  they  now  present  only  blackened  pan- 
nels  of  walls,  columns  prostrated  on  the  earth,  gardens  torn  up 
and  destroyed  ;  the  flame  of  the  conflagration  has  devoured  every 
thing.  Pera  possesses  neither  character,  originality,  nor  beauty  ; 
from  its  streets  neither  the  sea,  nor  the  hills,  nor  the  gardens  of 
Constantinople  can  be  descried  ;  to  enjoy  the  magnificent  view 
with  which  nature  and  art  have  conspired  to  endow  it,  we  must 
mount  to  the  roofs  of  its  houses. 

M.  Turqui  received  us  with  paternal  kindness:  his  house  is 
capacious,  elegant,  and  admirably  situated  ;  he  placed  it  entirely 
at  our  disposal.  The  richest  furniture,  the  most  luxurious  viands 
of  Europe,  the  most  affectionate  attentions  of  friendship,  the  most 
courteous  and  agreeable  society  in  his  own  person,  and  those  of  all 
around  him,  were  substituted  for  our  entertainment  for  the  carpet 
or  mat  of  the  desert,  the  coarse  fare  of  the  Arabs,  the  severities 
and  hardships  of  a  nautical  life.  Scarcely  was  I  installed  in  his 
house,  when  1  received  a  letter  from  Admiral  Roussin,  the  French 
ambassador  at  Constantinople,  kindly  inviting  me  to  be  his  guest 
at  Thsrapia.  Such  gratifying  tokens  of  interest  and  courtesy, 
received  from  unknown  compatriots,  a  thousand  leagues  from 
home,  in  isolation  and  misfortune,  stamp  their  traces  deeply  and 
indelibly  on  the  memory  of  the  traveler. 

21st,  22d,  and  23d  May,  1833. 

Unlading  of  the  two  brigs. — Repose,  visits  received  from  the 
principal  merchants  of  Pera. — Days  passed  in  the  delightful  pri¬ 
vacy  of  M.  Turqui  and  his  intimate  friends. — Rides  in  Constanti¬ 
nople. — General  inspection  of  the  town. — Visit  to  the  ambassador 
at  Therapia. 

23d  May,  1833. 

<&Vhen,  on  suddenly  quitting  the  changeable,  stormy  scene  of 
the  sea,  the  obscure  and  moving  cabin  of  a  brig,  and  wearying 
roll  of  the  waves,  the  foot  feels  itself  firmly  planted  on  a  friendly 


200 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


land,  and  we  are  surrounded  by  men,  books,  and  all  the  amenitie 
of  social  life  ;  when  we  see  woods  stretched  before  us,  compan 
ions  at  our  side,  a  whole  terrestrial  existence  to  be  resumed  afte 
long  disuse,  these  enjoyments  fill  us  with  an  instinctive  and  en 
tirely  physical  pleasure,  of  which  we  cannot  become  weary.  An} 
land,  even  the  most  savage,  the  most  distant  from  our  own  country 
is  a  recovered  home.  Twenty  times  have  I  experienced  this,  or 
landing  even  for  a  few  hours  on  an  unknown  and  desert  coast :  a 
rock  which  defends  you  from  the  wind,  a  shrub  which  affords 
shelter  from  the  sun  or  weather,  a  ray  of  the  sun  warming  the 
sand  on  which  you  are  seated,  lizards  running  about  amongst  the 
stones,  insects  plying  their  wings  around  you,  a  startled  bird 
which  approaches  and  then  flies  away  with  a  cry  of  alarm  ;  all 
these,  trifles  indifferent  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth,  are  a  whole 
world  to  the  wearied  navigator  released  from  the  waters. — But 
there  is  the  brig,  swaying  in  the  bay  upon  a  surgy  sea,  and  it 
must  presently  be  boarded  again.  The  sailors,  mounted  on  the 
yards,  are  employed  in  drying  or  mending  the  rent  sails;  the  boat 
riding  over  boiling  breakers,  and  disappearing  in  the  ravines  that 
follow  their  wake,  is  passing  and  re-passing  incessantly,  between 
the  ship  and  the  shore ;  landing  provisions,  or  carrying  out  sup¬ 
plies  of  fresh  water  to  the  vessel ;  her  cabin-boys  are  washing 
their  shirts  of  painted  cloth,  and  suspending  them  to  dry  on  the 
mastick  trees,  which  line  the  shore  ;  the  captain  is  studying  the 
face  of  the  sky,  and  watching  the  wind  which  is  on  the  point  of 
veering,  that  he  may  recall  by  the  firing  of  a  gun,  the  loitering 
passengers  to  their  life  of  misery,  of  darkness,  and  of  motion. 
Anxious  as  we  may  be  for  the  end  of  our  voyage,  all  offer  up 
their  secret  wishes  that  the  wind  may  not  so  speedily  prove  favor¬ 
able,  that  necessity  may  leave  us  at  least  another  day’s  enjoyment 
of  that  inward  luxury  which  attaches  man  to  land.  We  contract 
a  friendship  for  the  coast,  for  the  little  selvedge  of  turf  or  shrubs, 
which  stretches  between  the  sea  and  the  rocks :  for  the  fountain 
that  steals  almost  unperceived  from  the  roots  of  an  old  green  oak, 
for  the  lichens,  and  the  little  wild  flowers,  which  tremble  perpetu¬ 
ally  to  the  wind  between  the  crevices  of  the  rocks  ;  and  which  we 
shall  never  see  again.  When  the  cannon  of  recall  sounds  from 
the  ship,  when  the  signal  flag  is  hoisted  at  her  mast-head,  and  the 
boat  is  dispatched  to  fetch  one,  we  might  be  tempted  to  weep  with 
regret  at  leaving  a  nameless  corner  of  the  world,  our  only  con¬ 
nection  with  which  has  perhaps  been,  that  we  have  reposed  upon 
it  for  a  few  hours.  Often  have  I  experienced  this  innate  love  of 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


201 


nan  or  of  shelter,  on  any  shore,  however  solitary,  unknown,  or  a 
jlesert. 

But  here  two  contrary  emotions  are  struggling  for  mastery, 
ne  sweet,  the  other  painful.  First,  the  pleasure  I  have  just  de¬ 
noted,  of  having  firm  and  stable  footing,  a  bed  which  does  not 
■ject  one,  a  floor  which  does  not  continually  throw  one  like  a  shut- 
lecock  from  wall  to  wall,  a  free  way  before  one’s  steps,  large 
vindows  open  or  shut  at  one’s  pleasure,  and  without  fear  of  being 
Irowned  in  surf;  the  delight  of  hearing  the  wind  play  among  the 
curtains  without  making  the  house  reel,  and  producing  the  deafen- 
ng  combination  of  sounds  from  the  blustering  sails,  the  quivering 
nasts,  and  the  heavy  footsteps  of  the  crew  running  to  and  fro 
jpon  the  deck.  Much  more,  the  agreeable  communications  with 
Europe,  with  travelers,  merchants,  journals,  hooks,  every  thing 
vhich  restores  man  to  a  community  of  idea  and  of  life  with  man  ; 
hat  participation  in  the  general  progress  of  events  and  of  thoughts, 
)f  which  we  have  been  so  long  deprived.  And  still  above  all  this, 
he  cordial,  attentive,  delightful  hospitality — I  will  say  more — the 
riendship  of  our  excellent  host,  M.  Turqui,  who  seems  to  feel  as 
ich  happiness  in  lavishing  his  cares  upon  us,  and  procuring  us 
every  convenience  and  every  consolation  in  his  power,  as  we  de- 
'ive  from  receiving  them  !  The  memory  of  this  excellent,  this 
rare  man — for  in  my  long  life  of  travels,  I  have  not  met  another 
ike  him — will  be  dear  to  me,  as  long  as  any  remembrance  of  these 
/ears  of  pilgrimage  shall  abide  with  me,  and  my  thoughts  will  for 
wer  follow  him  on  those  coasts  of  Asia  or  of  Africa,  where  his 
ortune  may  condemn  him  to  end  his  days. 

Same  date. 

But  when  we  have  enjoyed  these  earliest  pleasures  of  a  return 
o  land,  we  are  frequently  tempted  to  regret  the  uncertainty  and  per¬ 
petual  agitations  of  a  life  on  ship-board.  There,  at  any  rate,  we 
lave  not  leisure  to  reflect  deeply  upon  our  own  condition,  or  to  probe 
he  abyss  of  sorrow  which  death  may  have  opened  in  our  hearts  ! 
jrief  may  be  always  there,  but  it  is  constantly  relieved  by  some 
hought  which  tends  to  remove  its  oppressive  weight ;  the  noise 
and  motion  by  which  we  are  surrounded  ;  the  ever-varying  aspect 
)f  the  ship’s  deck  and  of  the  sea  ;  the  swelling  or  moderating  of 
he  waves  ;  the  change,  increase,  or  abatement  of  the  wind  ;  the 
setting  and  re-setting  of  the  sails  twenty  times  in  the  day  ;  the 
watching  of  manoeuvres  to  which,  in  heavy  weather,  it  is  neces¬ 
sary  to  give  assistance  ;  the  thousand  accidents  of  a  tempestuous 
day  or  night ;  the  rustling  of  the  agitated  sails  ;  the  rolling  and 


202 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


breakage  of  the  furniture  in  the  mid- deck  ;  the  heavy  and  irregu¬ 
lar  strokes  of  the  waves  against  the  fragile  sides  of  the  cabin  in 
which  we  attempt  to  sleep  ;  the  quickened  steps  of  the  men  on 
watch  over  our  heads ;  the  plaintive  cry  of  the  poultry,  drowned 
by  the  spray  in  their  cages  fastened  to  the  foot  of  the  mast;  the 
crowing  of  the  cocks  at  the  first  dawn  of  day,  after  a  night  of 
darkness  and  squalls  ;  the  whistling  of  the  log-cord,  thrown  out 
to  measure  the  way ;  the  strange,  uncouth,  savage,  or  pleasing 
aspect  of  a  coast,  which  was  not  suspected  on  the  preceding  night, 
but  which  at  dawn  of  day  we  find  ourselves  approaching  ;  esti¬ 
mating  the  height  of  its  mountains,  as  they  shine  like  heaps  of 
snow  among  groups  of  firs: — all  this  is  of  more  or  less  conse¬ 
quence  to  the  mind,  relieves  the  heart  a  little,  allows  grief  to  eva¬ 
porate,  and  suppresses  sorrow  so  long  as  the  voyage  lasts;  but  ail 
this  affliction  falls  back  with  increased  weight  upon  the  mind, 
when  after  reaching  the  shore,  sleep  in  a  tranquil  bed  has  restored 
the  intensity  of  our  feelings.  The  heart,  no  longer  distracted 
from  without,  has  time  to  review  its  mutilated  affections,  its  despair¬ 
ing  thoughts,  its  lost  futurity  !  We  are  unable  to  conceive  how  a 
return  to  one’s  -former  life,  that  monotonous  and  empty  life  of 
towns  and  of  society,  is  to  be  endured.  This  is  what  I  experience 
to  the  extent  of  wishing  for  an  eternal  voyage  with  all  its  chances, 
and  even  its  most  unpleasant  distractions.  Alas  !  this  is  what  I 
read  in  the  eyes  of  my  wife,  still  more  than  in  my  own  heart. 
The  suffering  of  a  man  is  not  to  be  compared  to  that  of  a  woman 
■ — a  mother — a  single  thought,  a  single  affection  is  life  or  death  to 
a  woman  ;  life  with  her  is  a  thing  in  possession,  death  is  a  thing 
lost ;  man  lives  through  all  things,  good  or  evil  ;  God  does  not  kill 
him  with  a  single  blow. 

May  24th,  1833. 

I  am  surrounded  by  journals  and  pamphlets,  recently  arrived 
from  Europe,  and  with  which  the  kindness  of  the  French  and 
Austrian  ambassadors  has  liberally  furnished  me.  After  having 
read  all  day,  I  am  confirmed  in  the  opinions  which  I  brought 
with  me  from  Europe.  I  see  that  events  march  entirely  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  political  programme  which  historical  and  philosophi¬ 
cal  analogy  have  assigned  to  the  course  of  things  in  this  glorious 
age.  Agitated  France  calms  herself;  Europe,  restless,  but  fear¬ 
ful,  looks  on  with  jealousy  and  hatred,  but  dares  not  interfere  ; 
she  feels  instinctively,  and  this  instinct  is  prophetic,  that  in  the  act 
of  moving  she  would  probably  lose  her  equilibrium.  I  never  ima¬ 
gined  that  war  would  result  from  the  Revolution  of  July  ;  France 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


203 


r 


must  have  surrendered  to  insane  counsels  to  have  become  the  ag¬ 
gressor ;  and  France  not  aggressing,  Europe  could  not  wilfully 
throw  herself  into  the  midst  of  a  revolutionary  furnace,  in  which 
she  must  have  been  consumed  in  her  efforts  to  extinguish  the  fire. 
The  government  of  July  well  deserves  the  thanks  of  France  and 
of  Europe,  for  the  single  act  of  having,  after  the  three  days,  re¬ 
strained  the  blind  and  impatient  ardor  of  the  warlike  spirit  in 
France. 

War  would  have  proved  equally  fatal  to  both  parties.  We 
had  no  armies,  no  public  spirit,  for  without  unanimity  there  is 
none.  Foreign  war  would  immediately  have  entailed  civil  war 
in  the  south  and  west  of  France,  persecution  and  spoliation 
throughout.  No  government  could  have  been  maintained  in 
Paris  under  a  revolutionary  burst  from  the  centre;  whilst  the 
fragments  of  armies  hastily  raised  by  an  unguided  and  unre¬ 
strained  patriotism  would  have  been  swallowed  up  on  our  eastern 
frontiers  ;  the  south  as  far  as  Lvons  would  have  hoisted  the  white 
flag,  the  west  to  the  Loire  have  re-established  the  Yendean  gue¬ 
rillas;  the  manufacturing  populations  of  Lyons,  Rouen,  Paris, 
exasperated  by  the  misery  in  which  the  cessation  of  labor  had 
plunged  them,  would  have  rushed  to  the  centre,  and  poured  in 
undisciplined  masses  upon  Paris  and  the  frontier,  choosing  for 
themselves  inexperienced  commanders,  and  imposing  their  capri¬ 
ces  upon  them  for  plans  of  the  campaign.  Property,  commerce, 
industry  and  credit  would  all  have  been  lost  together,  and  it  would 
have  been  necessary  to  use  violence  in  order  to  raise  loans  or 
taxes.  Gold  concealed,  and  credit  dead,  despair  would  have  led 
to  resistance,  and  resistance  to  plunder,  murder,  and  popular 
vengeance  ;  once  involved  in  the  path  of  blood,  there  would  have 
been  no  escape  from  it,  but  through  anarchy,  despotism,  or  dis¬ 
memberment.  But  all  this  would  have  become  still  more  com¬ 
plicated  from  the  unexpected  and  spontaneous  rising  of  other  parts 
of  Europe.  Spain,  Italy,  Poland,  the  Banks  of  the  Rhine, 
Belgium,  would  all  have  taken  fire  together,  or  one  after  ano¬ 
ther;  the  whole  of  Europe  would  have  been  involved  in  an  al¬ 
ternation  of  insurrections  and  oppressions,  by  which  the  state  of 
affairs  would  have  been  perpetually  changing  ;  and  we  should 
have  entered  ill-prepared  upon  another  thirty  years’  war.  The 
genius  of  civilization,  however,  would  not  permit  it,  .and  all  has 
been  ordered  for  the  best.  We  shall  not  now  enter  the  field  with¬ 
out  being  prepared  for  the  combat,  without  knowing  our  strength, 
being  numbered,  passed  in  review,  and  ranged  in  order  of  battle  ; 


I 


204 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


the  struggle  will  be  regularly  conducted,  and  the  result  will  be 
evident  and  certain. 

Events  are  best  understood  from  a  distance,  because  from 
thence  the  details  do  not  attract  the  eye,  but  the  objects  present 
themselves  in  their  most  important  points  of  view.  It  was  for  this 
reason  that  the  prophets  and  oracles  of  old  lived  in  solitude  and 
abstracted  from  the  world  ;  they  were  sages,  who  studied  things 
in  the  aggregate,  and  whose  judgment  was  not  disturbed  by  the 
petty  emotions  of  the  passing  hour.  It  is  necessary  for  a  politi¬ 
cian  frequently  to  withdraw  himself  from  the  theatre  on  which 
the  drama  of  his  times  is  performing,  if  he  wishes  to  form  a  cor¬ 
rect  judgment  upon  it,  and  to  foresee  its  issue.  To  predict  is 
impossible,  foreknowledge  being  the  attribute  of  God  alone  ;  but 
to  foresee  is  possible,  for  foresight  appertains  to  man. 

I  frequently  ask  myself  what  wiil  be  the  conclusion  of  this 
great  excitement  in  spirit  and  in  action,  which,  commencing  in 
France,  impels  the  world,  and  draws  every  thing,  willingly  or 
otherwise,  within  its  vortex.  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  see  in 
this  impulsion  only  the  impulse  itself — that  is  to  say,  its  tumult 
and  confusion  of  ideas  ;  who  believe  the  moral  and  political 
world  to  be  in  those  final  convulsions  which  precede  death  and 
decomposition.  This  is  evidently  a  double  movement  of  decom¬ 
position  and  organization,  at  the  same  time  ;  the  spirit  of  renova¬ 
tion  keeps  equal  pace  with  the  spirit  of  destruction  ;  one  faith  re¬ 
places  another  ;  one  faith  supersedes  another  ;  wherever  the  past 
succumbs,  the  future  stands  prepared  to  rise  upon  its  ruins  ;  the 
transition  is  slow  and  harsh,  as  all  transitions  must  be,  in  the  pro¬ 
gress  of  which  the  passions  and  the  interests  of  men  come  into 
collision  ;  either  the  social  classes,  or  the  various  countries,  pro¬ 
gress  by  unequal  steps  ;  or  some  obstinately  recede  whilst  the 
majority  advance.  Confusion,  mist,  ruin,  and  obscurity  prevail 
for  the  moment ;  hut  from  time  to  time  the  wind  disperses  the 
cloud  of  dust  which  conceals  both  the  means  and  the  end  ;  and 
those  who  from  an  eminence  can  distinguish  the  march  of  events, 
recognize  the  promise  of  futurity,  and  perceive  the  earliest  dawn¬ 
ing  of  a  day  which  is  to  enlighten  a  vast  horizon.  I  hear  it  in¬ 
cessantly  said,  even  here,  that  “  Men  have  no  longer  any  creduli¬ 
ty ;  each  one  surrenders  himself  to  his  individual  judgment'; 
there  is  no  longer  a  common  faith  in  any  thing  ;  neither  in  religion 
politics,  nor  sociality.  A  common  faith  is  the  secret  spring  of 
nations ;  this  spring  broken  all  is  disordered  ;  there  is  but  one 
means  of  saving  the  people, — it  is  to  restore  to  them  their  credu- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


205 


lity.”  Restore  their  credulity?  Resuscitate  popular  dogmas 
which  the  conscience  of  the  people  has  rejected  ?  Do  over  again 
what  time  has  undone  ? — This  is  the  language  of  insanity  !  It 
would  be  an  attempt  to  struggle  against  nature  and  the  course  of 
things,  to  march  in  direct  opposition  to  Providence,  and  the  acts 
by  which  its  steps  are  traced.  In  order  to  obtain  any  end,  we 
must  proceed  by  the  path  into  which  God  conducts  events  and 
ideas  ;  the  tide  of  time  never  rolls  back ;  we  may  guide  our¬ 
selves,  and  rule  the  world  upon  its  invincible  current,  but  we  can 
neither  arrest  it,  nor  alter  its  onward  course.. 

But  is  it  true  that  man  no  longer  possesses  either  light  or  in¬ 
telligence — that  no  common  faith  still  exists  in  the  popular  mind 
— that  no  inwardly  recognized  law  governs  the  conscience  of  hu¬ 
man  nature  ?  This  is  an  assertion  which  has  been  received  with¬ 
out  being  sounded,  and  is  not  founded  in  fact.  If  the  world  had 
no  longer  either  faith  or  opinions  in  common,  it  would  not  be  so 
much  agitated  ;  of  nothing,  nothing  comes,  mens  agitat  molem . 
There  is,  on  the  contrary,  a  strong  conviction,  a  fanatical  faith,  a 
confused  and  indefinite  hope,  an  ardent  love,  a  common  but  not 
yet  well-digested  object,  which  pushes,  presses,  moves,  attracts, 
condenses  ;  which  makes  all  the  talents,  all  the  consciences,  all  the 
moral  strength  of  this  epoch  gravitate  towards  a  common  centre. 
These  revolutions,  these  shocks,  these  downfalls  of  empire,  these 
gigantic  and  repeated  movements  of  all  the  members  of  ancient 
Europe,  with  their  echoes  in  America  and  Asia,  this  unreflecting 
and  irresistible  impulse,  which,  in  despite  of  individual  will,  im¬ 
presses  so  much  agitation  and  unanimity  upon  the  collected 
strength  of  nations  ;  all  this  is  not  an  effect  without  a  cause  ;  it 
all  has  an  origin,  profound  and  secret,  it  is  true,  but  an  origin 
evident  to  the  eye  of  philosophy.  This  origin  is  precisely  what 
you  complain  of  having  lost,  what  you  deny  to  exist  in  the  pres¬ 
ent  state  of  the  world  ;  it  is  a  common  idea,  a  conviction,  a  social 
law  ;  it  is  a  truth  which  having  involuntarily  entered  into  all 
minds,  and  having  even  unconsciously  to  itself  taken  possession 
of  the  popular  mind,  labors  to  produce  itself  in  action  with  the 
force  of  a  divine  truth,  that  is  to  say,  with  invincible  power. 
Universal  reason  is  this  faith ;  speech  is  its  organ ;  the  press  is 
its  apostle;  it  spreads  itself  over  the  world  with  the  infallibility 
and  enthusiasm  of  a  new  religion ;  it  wishes  to  remodel,  after  its 
own  image,  religion,  civilization,  society,  legislation  ;  all  imper¬ 
fect,  or  degenerated  by  the  errors  and  ignorance  of  the  dark 
ages  they  have  passed  through  : — -it  would  impose  on  religion,  for 
vol.  ii.  10 


206 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


doctrine,  the  unity  and  perfection  of  the  Godhead — for  a  motto, 
perpetual  morality — for  worship,  adoration  and  charity ;  on  poli¬ 
tics,  human  nature  as  superior  to  the  distinctions  of  country  ;  on 
legislation,  the  equality  and  fraternity  of  man ;  on  society,  a  re¬ 
ciprocal  exchange  of  services  and  duties  regulated  and  guaran¬ 
teed  by  the  law — Christianity  legalized  ! 

Universal  reason  wills  that  it  should  be  so,  and  it  effects  it. 
Will  you  say  then  that  no  common  faith,  no  common  object,  ac¬ 
tuates  the  men  of  the  present  time  ?  Since  the  infancy  of  Chris¬ 
tianity,  the  world  has  never  seen  the  accomplishment  of  so  great 
a  work  by  such  feeble  means.  The  Cross,  and  the  Press,  these 
are  the  instruments  of  the  two  greatest  attempts  ever  made  to¬ 
wards  civilizing  the  world. 

May  25th. 

This  evening,  in  a  splendid  moonlight  spreading  over  the  sea 
of  Marmora,  and  even  to  the  violet  colored  lines  of  the  snow¬ 
capped  Olympus,  I  seated  myself  alone  beneath  the  cypresses  of 
the  Death  Quay.  These  cypresses,  which  shade  the  numberless 
tombs  of  the  Mussulmans  and  descend  from  the  heights  of  Pera 
to  the  sea-shore,  are  intersected  with  several  paths  leading  from 
the  port  of  Constantinople  to  the  mosque  of  the  Dancing  Dervish¬ 
es.  At  that  hour  no  one  was  traversing  these  paths,  and  I  might 
have  imagined  myself  at  a  hundred  leagues  distant  from  any 
great  city,  but  that  the  thousand  sounds  of  evening  wafted  by  the 
breeze  played  for  a  moment  and  were  then  lost  among  the  trem¬ 
bling  branches  of  the  cypress  trees.  These  sounds  were  the 
songs  of  the  sailors  on  board  the  vessels,  the  splashing  of  the 
oars  of  the  caiques  in  the  water,  the  wild  music  of  the  Bulgari¬ 
ans,  the  drums  in  the  barracks  and  arsenals,  the  voices  of  women 
singing  within  their  grated  windows  to  lull  their  children  to  rest, 
and  the  buzz  of  the  populous  streets  and  bazaars  of  Galata. 
From  time  to  time  the  cry  of  the  muetzlins  from  the  tops  of  the 
minarets,  or  the  evening  gun  fired  by  the  fleet  lying  at  anchor 
at  the  entrance  of  the  Bosphorus,  were  re-echoed  by  the  sonorous 
mosques  and  the  hills,  and  then  died  away  in  the  basin  of  the 
Golden  Horn,  or  among  the  peaceful  willows  overhanging  the 
fresh  waters  of  Europe.  All  these  various  sounds  were  at  in¬ 
tervals  blended  together  in  one  dead  and  confused  hum; — an 
harmonious  music,  in  which  human  sounds,  the  stifled  respira¬ 
tion  of  a  great  sleeping  city,  were  mingled  with  the  sounds  of 
nature,  the  distant  roar  of  the  waves,  and  the  murmur  of  the 
breeze  which  bowed  down  the  pointed  tops  of  the  cypresses.  This 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


207 


is  one  of  the  grandest  and  most  powerful  impressions  that  a  po¬ 
etic  imagination  can  receive  :  it  partakes  of  man  and  God,  of  na¬ 
ture  and  society,  agitation  and  repose.  It  is  difficult  to  say 
whether  the  mind  most  participates  in  the  great  movement  of 
animated  beings  whose  varied  feelings  are  expressed  in  the  tu¬ 
mult  of  upraised  voices ;  or  in  the  nocturnal  peace  of  the  ele¬ 
ments,  which  elevates  the  soul  above  cities  and  empires,  in  the 
sympathy  of  nature  and  God. 

The  Seraglio,  a  vast  peninsula  black  with  plantain  and  cy¬ 
press  trees,  advanced  like  a  cape  of  forests  between  the  two  seas 
which  lay  beneath  my  eyes.  The  moon  shed  her  silver  light  over 
the  numerous  kiosks,  and  the  old  walls  of  the  palace  of  Amurath 
stood  out  like  a  rock  amidst  the  dark  green  of  the  plantain  trees. 
I  had  before  my  eyes  and  in  my  mind  the  scenes  in  which  had 
been  acted  many  tragic  and  glorious  dramas  of  ages  past.  All 
these  dramas  now  passed  in  imagination  before  me,  with  their 
actors  and  their  traces  of  blood  or  glory. 

I  saw  a  horde  issue  from  the  Caucasus  impelled  by  that  in¬ 
stinct  of  peregrination  with  which  God  has  imbued  conquering 
nations,  who  may  be  compared  to  bees  sallying  from  the  trunk 
of  a  tree  to  scatter  forth  new  swarms.  The  tall  patriarchal  figure 
of  Othman,  in  the  midst  of  his  tents  and  his  flocks,  dispersing 
his  people  through  Asia  Minor,  successively  advancing  to  Brussa, 
expiring  in  the  arms  of  his  sons,  who  had  become  his  lieuten¬ 
ants,  seemed  to  say  to  Orchan  :  “  I  die  without  regret,  since  I 
leave  a  successor  such  as  }mu.  Go  and  propagate  the  divine 
law,  the  thought  of  God,  who  has  come  to  seek  us  from  Mecca 
to  the  Caucasus.  Be  like  that  law,  charitable  and  clement :  thus 
do  princes  draw  down  upon  their  subjects  the  benediction  of 
Heaven  !  Do  not  leave  my  body  in  this  land,  which  is  to  us 
only  as  a  path,  but  deposit  my  mortal  remains  in  Constantinople, 
in  the  place  which  I  assign  to  myself  in  dying.55 

Some  years  later,  Orchan,  the  son  of  Othman,  was  encamped 
at  Scutari,  on  those  same  hills  which  now  cast  their  black 
shadows  on  the  cypress  woods.  The  Greek  Emperor  Cantacu- 
zene,  impelled  by  necessity,  gave  him  his  beautiful  daughter, 
Theodora,  to  be  the  fifth  wife  of  his  Seraglio.  Amidst  the  sound  of 
music,  the  young  princess  crossed  that  arm  of  the  sea  on  which  I 
now  behold  Russian  vessels  floating ;  and  the  victim  vainly 
sacrificed  herself  to  prolong,  for  a  few  days,  the  existence  of  the 
empire.  Soon  the  sons  of  Orchan  approached  the  shore,  with  a 
party  of  brave  followers  ;  in  one  night  they  constructed  three 


208 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


rafts  supported  by  bladders  filled  with  air,  and  favored  by  dark¬ 
ness  they  crossed  the  strait.  The  Greek  sentinels  were  sleeping. 
A  young  peasant,  going  to  work,  at  break  of  day,  met  the 
Ottomans,  showed  them  the  entrance  of  a  cavern  leading  to  the 
interior  of  the  castle,  and  the  Turks  possessed  a  fortress  in 
Europe. 

In  the  fourth  reign  after  this,  Mahomet  II.  thus  answered  the 
Greek  ambassadors : — “  I  form  no  enterprise  against  you  ;  the 
empire  of  Constantinople  is  bounded  by  its  walls.” — But  Constan¬ 
tinople  thus  bounded  prevented  the  sultan  from  sleeping.  He  sent 
for  his  vizier  and  said  : — “  I  must  have  Constantinople.  I  cannot 
sleep  on  this  pillow.  God  is  willing  to  give  me  the  Romans.” 
In  his  brutal  impatience,  he  dashed  with  his  horse  into  the 
waves  of  the  sea,  and  was  nearly  drowned.  On  the  day  of  the 
last  assault,  he  said  to  his  soldiers  : — “  I  reserve  to  myself  only 
the  city  ;  the  gold  and  the  women  are  yours ;  and  I  give  the 
government  of  my  largest  province  to  him  who  shall  first  ascend 
the  ramparts.”  That  night  both  land  and  sea  were  illumined  by 
numberless  fires  :  the  morning  which  was  to  consign  to  the  Otto¬ 
mans  their  prey  seemed  to  approach  tardily. 

Meanwhile,  beneath  the  sombre  cupola  of  St.  Sophia,  the 
brave  and  unfortunate  Constantine  repaired,  on  the  last  night  of 
his  life,  to  pray  to  the  God  of  the  empire.  At  sunrise  he  mounted 
his  horse,  and  amidst  the  cries  and  lamentations  of  his  family,  he 
departed  to  die  a  heroic  death  in  the  breach  of  his  capital.  This 
was  on  the  29th  of  May,  1453. 

Some  few  hours  afterwards,  the  doors  of  St.  Sophia  were  shat¬ 
tered  by  the  axes  of  the  assailants.  Old  men,  women,  young 
girls,  monks,  and  nuns  had  thronged  to  the  sacred  edifice,  whose 
porch,  galleries,  vaults,  domes,  and  platforms  were  sufficient  to 
contain  the  population  of  the  whole  city.  A  last  cry  was  raised 
to  heaven,  like  the  voice  of  expiring  Christianity.  In  a  few 
moments,  sixty  thousand  old  men,  women,  and  children,  without 
distinction  of  rank,  age,  or  sex,  were  bound  two  by  two  ;  the  men 
with  cords  ;  and  the  women  with  their  veils  or  girdles.  These 
slaves  were  driven  on  board  the  vessels,  carried  to  the  Ottoman 
camp,  insulted,  exchanged,  and  sold,  like  cattle.  Never  were 
such  lamentations  heard  on  the  two  shores  of  Europe  and  Asia  : 
wives  were  separated  for  ever  from  their  husbands,  and  children 
from  their  parents.  The  Turks  drove  by  different  roads  their 
living  booty  from  Constantinople  to  the  interior  of  Asia.  The  city 
was  sacked  for  the  space  of  eight  hours,  and  then  Mahomet  II. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


209 


entered  by  the  St.  Roman  gate,  attended  by  his  viziers,  his 
pachas,  and  his  guards.  He  alighted  at  the  portico  of  St.  Sophia, 
and  struck  with  his  yatagan  a  soldier  who  was  breaking  the 
altar.  He  desired  that  nothing  should  be  destroyed.  He  trans¬ 
formed  the  church  into  a  mosque  ;  and  a  muetzlin  mounted  for 
the  first  time  that  tower,  whence  I  now  hear  him  summon  the 
Mussulmans  to  prayer,  and  to  glorify,  under  another  form,  the 
same  God  who  was  worshiped  there  the  day  before.  From 
thence  Mahomet  II.  proceeded  to  the  palace  deserted  by  the 
Greek  emperors,  and  as  he  entered  he  repeated  this  Persian 
verse  : — 

“  The  spider  weaves  her  web  in  the  palace  of  the  emperors, 
and  the  owl  sings  her  night-song  on  the  towers  of  Erasiab.” 

That  day  the  body  of  Constantine  was  found  beneath  the 
heaps  of  dead.  Some  Janissaries  had  heard  a  Greek,  magnifi¬ 
cently  attired,  and  struggling  in  the  agonies  of  death,  exclaim  : 
“  Is  there  no  Christian  who  will  end  my  life  V }  They  severed 
his  head  from  his  body.  Two  eagles  embroidered  in  gold  on  his 
boots,  and  the  tears  of  a  few  faithful  Greeks,  left  no  doubt  that 
the  unknown  soldier  was  the  brave  and  unfortunate  Constantine. 
His  head  was  publicly  exposed,  to  prevent  his  vanquished  coun¬ 
trymen  from  cherishing  any  doubt  of  his  death,  or  any  hope  of 
seeing  him  re-appear.  He  was  then  interred,  with  the  honors  due 
to  sovereignty,  heroism,  and  death. 

Mahomet  did  not  abuse  his  victory.  The  religious  toleration 
of  the  Turks  displayed  itself  in  his  first  acts.  He  suffered  the 
Christians  to  retain  their  churches  and  to  enjoy  the  freedom  of 
public  worship.  He  maintained  the  Greek  Patriarch  in  his 
functions.  Seated  on  his  throne,  he  himself  restored  the  crosier 
and  the  pastoral  staff  to  the  monk  Gennadius,  and  presented  him 
with  a  horse  richly  caparisoned.  The  fugitive  Greeks  took  refuge 
in  Italy,  and  carried  thither  their  taste  for  theological  discussion, 
philosophy,  and  literature.  The  torch  which  had  been  extin¬ 
guished  at  Constantinople  was  rekindled  in  Florence  and  Rome. 
During  thirty  years  of  a  reign  which  was  one  uninterrupted  suc¬ 
cession  of  conquests,  Mahomet  II.  added  two  hundred  towns  and 
twelve  kingdoms  to  the  empire.  Pie  died  in  the  midst  of  his 
triumphs,  and  received  the  surname  of  Mahomet  the  Great.  The 
personal  appearance  of  this  prince  is  thus  described  : — the  com¬ 
plexion  of  a  Tartar,  a  smooth  countenance,  sunken  eyes,  with  a 
profound  and  penetrating  expression.  He  was  always  ready 
to  exercise  all  the  virtues  and  all  the  crimes  which  policy  sug¬ 
gested. 


210 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Bajazet  I.,  the  Louis  XI.  of  the  Ottomans,  cast  his  sons  into 
the  sea,  and  he  himself,  driven  from  the  throne  by  Selim,  fled 
with  his  wives  and  his  treasures,  and  at  length  died  of  poison 
prepared  by  one  of  his  sons.  Selim,  when  asked  where  his  tents 
were  to  be  pitched,  ordered  that  the  vizier  who  asked  the  question 
should  be  strangled.  The  vizier’s  successor  asked  the  same  ques¬ 
tion  and  experienced  the  same  fate.  A  third,  without  making 
any  inquiry,  pitched  the  tents  towards  the  four  cardinal  points, 
and  when  Selim  asked  where  his  camp  was,  the  vizier  replied  : 
“  Every  where ;  your  soldiers  will  follow  you  to  whatsoever  side 
you  may  turn  your  arms.”  “  Good,”  said  the  awful  Sultan ; 
“this  is  the  way  I  like  to  be  served.”  Selim  conquered  Egypt, 
and  having  mounted  a  magnificent  throne,  erected  on  the  banks 
of  the  Nile,  he  ordered  the  whole  race  of  the  oppressors  of  that 
fine  country  to  be  conducted  to  his  presence.  Twenty  thousand 
Mamelukes  were  then  massacred  before  his  eyes,  and  their  bodies 
were  cast  into  the  river.  This  barbarity  was  dictated,  not  by 
any  cruelty  of  disposition,  but  by  that  idea  of  fatality  which 
makes  a  man  place  faith  in  his  mission,  and  to  fulfill  the  will  of 
God,  of  whom  he  thinks  himself  the  instrument,  regards  the 
world  as  his  conquest,  and  mankind  as  dust  beneath  his  feet. 
That  same  hand,  which  was  thus  stained  with  the  blood  of  so 
many  thousand  men,  wrote  poetry  full  of  resignation,  mildness, 
and  philosophy.  A  piece  of  white  marble  is  still  preserved,  on 
which  he  wrote  these  sentences  :  “  Every  thing  comes  from  God. 
What  we  pray  for,  he  gives  or  withholds  from  us  as  he  pleases. 
If  any  earthly  being  could  do  any  thing  of  himself,  he  would  be 
equal  to  God.”  Lower  down  are  these  words:  “Selim,  the  ser¬ 
vant  of  the  poor,  composed  and  wrote  these  verses.”  He  con¬ 
quered  Persia,  and  died  while  directing  his  vizier  to  make  pious 
restitutions  to  those  Persian  families  who  had  been  ruined  by  the 
war.  His  tomb  stands  next  to  that  of  Mahomet  II.  with  this 
arrogant  epitaph:  “On  this  day  Sultan  Selim  passed  to  the  eter¬ 
nal  kingdom,  leaving  the  empire  of  the  world  to  Soliman.” 

I  perceive  from  hence,  glittering  among  the  domes  of  the 
mosques,  the  resplendent  cupola  of  the  mosque  of  Soliman,  one 
of  the  most  magnificent  in  Constantinople.  This  mosque  recalls  a 
touching  testimonial  of  the  grief  of  Soliman  for  the  death  of  his 
eldest  son  Mahomet,  whose  mother  was  the  celebrated  Roxelana. 
To  honor  the  memory  of  his  son,  the  prince  released  a  number 
of  slaves  of  both  sexes,  and  thus  associated  their  sympathy  with 
his  grief. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


211 


Soon  after,  the  environs  of  this  same  mosque  became  the 
scene  of  a  terrible  drama.  Soliman,  being  excited  by  Roxelana 
against  Mustapha,  one  of  his  sons  by  another  wife,  sent  for  the 
Mufti,  and  thus  addressed  him:  “  What  punishment  does  Zair 
merit  ?  He  is  the  slave  of  a  merchant  in  this  city,  who,  going 
on  a  journey,  confided  to  him  the  care  of  his  wife,  his  children, 
and  his  treasures.  Zair  deranged  the  affairs  of  his  master,  at¬ 
tempted  to  seduce  his  wife,  and  laid  snares  for  his  children.  What 
punishment  then  does  the  slave  Zair  deserve?”  “The  slave 
Zair  deserves  death,”  wrote  the  Mufti.  “God  is  greatest!” 

Armed  with  his  answer,  Soliman  summoned  Mustapha  to  his 
camp.  He  arrived,  accompanied  by  Zeangir,  a  son  of  Roxelana, 
who,  however,  far  from  sharing  his  mother’s  hatred  of  Mustapha, 
cherished  the  tenderest  affection  for  his  brother.  On  presenting 
himself  before  Soliman’s  tent,  Mustapha  was  disarmed.  He  ad¬ 
vanced  alone  within  the  first  line,  where  solitude  and  silence  pre¬ 
vailed.  Four  mutes  rushed  upon  the  young  prince,  and  endeav¬ 
ored  to  strangle  him.  He  overthrew  them,  and  was  ready  to 
escape  and  to  call  to  his  aid  the  troops,  by  whom  he  was  adored, 
when  Soliman  himself,  who  was  on  the  watch,  raised  the  curtain 
of  his  tent  and  darted  on  the  mutes  a  look  of  fury.  The  mutes 
then  recovered  themselves,  rose,  and  succeeded  in  strangling  the 
prince.  His  body  was  exposed  on  a  carpet  before  the  Sultan’s 
tent.  Zeangir  died  of  despair  on  his  brother’s  body,  and  the 
troops  beheld  with  horror  the  implacable  vengeance  of  a  woman, 
to  whose  will  the  unfortunate  Soliman  was  perfectly  enslaved  * 
Mustapha  had  a  son  ten  years  of  age,  and  Roxelana  prevailed  on 
the  Sultan  to  grant  an  order  for  his  death.  A  secret  envoy  was 
despatched  to  elude  the  vigilance  of  the  mother  of  the  child.  A 
pretence  was  devised  for  conveying  him  to  a  country-house  at  a 
little  distance  from  Brussa.  The  young  Sultan,  on  horseback, 
preceded  the  litter  of  the  princess  his  mother.  The  litter  broke 
down,  and  the  prince  set  off  to  continue  his  journey,  attended  only 
by  the  eunuch  who  was  to  execute  the  secret  order  for  his  death. 
He  had  no  sooner  reached  the  house,  than  the  eunuch  stopped  him 
on  the  threshold  of  the  door,  and  presented  to  him  the  bowstring, 
saying :  “  The  Sultan  commands  that  you  shall  instantly  die  !” 
“  This  order,”  answered  the  boy,  “  is  to  me  as  sacred  as  the  man¬ 
date  of  God,”  and  he  presented  his  head  to  the  executioner.  When 
the  mother  arrived,  she  found  the  palpitating  body  of  her  son  ly¬ 
ing  at  the  threshold  of  the  door.  Soliman’s  blind  passion  for 
Roxelana  filled  the  seraglio  with  more  crimes  than  were  ever  wit¬ 
nessed  in  the  palace  of  Argos. 


212 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LANI>. 


The  Seven  Towers  remind  me  of  the  death  of  the  first  sultan^ 
who  was  immolated  by  the  Janissaries.  Othman  was  allured  by 
them  into  the  castle,  and  perished  two  days  afterwards  by  the 
hand  of  the  vizier  Daoud.  Shortly  after  the  vizier  himself  was 
conducted  to  the  Seven  Towers.  His  turban  was  torn  off  his  head, 
he  was  made  to  drink  at  the  same  fountain  where  the  unfortunate 
Othman  had  slaked  his  thirst,  and  he  -was  strangled  in  the  same 
chamber  in  which  he  had  strangled  his  master.  An  aga  of  the 
Janissaries,  one  of  whose  men  had  struck  Othman,  was  broken; 
and  until  the  time  of  the  abolition  of  the  corps,  whenever  an  offi¬ 
cer  called  the  sixty-fifth  aga,  another  officer  made  the  following 
answer  : 

“  May  the  voice  of  that  aga  perish  ! — may  the  voice  of  that  aga 
be  annihilated  for  ever  PJ 

The  Janissaries,  repenting  of  the  murder  of  Othman,  deposed 
Mustapha,  and  bringing  from  the  seraglio  a  young  prince  of  twelve 
years  of  age,  they  gave  him  the  empire.  Arrayed  in  a  robe  of 
cloth  of  gold,  with  the  imperial  turban  on  his  head,  and  seated  on 
a  portable  throne,  the  young  emperor  was  carried  on  the  shoulders 
of  four  Janissary  officers,  and  paraded  through  the  city  in  the 
midst  of  his  people.  This  was  Amurath  I  V.,  who  was  well  wor¬ 
thy  of  the  throne  to' which  rebellion  and  repentance  had  prema¬ 
turely  raised  him. 

Here  ended  the  glorious  days  of  the  Ottoman  empire.  The 
law  of  Soliman,  which  ordained  that  the  children  of  the  sultans 
should  be  kept  captives  in  the  seraglio,  among  the  eunuchs  and 
women,  enervated  the  blood  of  Othman,  and  left  the  empire  a 
prey  to  the  intrigues  of  the  eunuchs  and  the  revolts  of  the  Janis¬ 
saries.  At  intervals  a  few  bright  characters  have  appeared ;  hut 
they  have  been  powerless,  because  they  were  early  habituated  to 
check  the  free  exercise  of  their  wills.  Whatever  may  be  said  in 
Europe,  it  is  certain  that  the  empire  is  dead,  and  that  even  a  hero 
could  only  restore  it  to  a  semblance  of  life. 

The  Seraglio,  abandoned  by  Mahmoud,  is  now  nothing  but  a 
brilliant  tomb.  Flow  deeply  interesting  would  its  history  be,  if 
the  walls  had  tongues  to  tell  it ! 

One  of  the  most  amiable  characters  in  the  mysterious  drama  is 
the  unfortunate  Selim.  He  was  deposed  and  imprisoned  in  the 
seraglio,  because  he  would  not  shed  the  blood  of  his  nephews,  and 
he  became  the  tutor  of  the  present  sultan,  Mahmoud.  Selim  was 
a  philosopher  and  a  poet.  The  tutor  had  been  a  sovereign,  and 
the  pupil  was  destined  to  become  one.  One  day,  during  the  cap- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


213 


tivity  of  the  two  princes,  Mahmoud,  irritated  at  the  negligence  of 
a  slave,  smote  him  in  the  face.  “  Ah,  Mahmoud,”  said  Selim, 
“when  you  shall  have  passed  through  the  furnace  of  the  world, 
you  will  not  lose  your  temper  thus.  When  you  have  suffered  as 
I  have,  you  will  know  how  to  compassionate  the  sufferings  of 
others — even  those  of  a  slave.” 

Selim’s  fate  was  unfortunate  to  the  last.  Mustapha  Baraictar, 
one  of  his  faithful  pachas,  armed  in  support  of  his  cause,  arrived 
at  Constantinople,  and  presented  himself  at  the  Seraglio  gates. 
Sultan  Mustapha  was  at  that  moment  voluptuously  reposing  in  one 
of  his  kiosks,  on  the  Bosphorus.  The  Bostangis  defended  the 
gates  :  Mustapha  repaired  to  the  Seraglio,  and  whilst  Baraictar 
was  forcing  the  gates  with  his  artillery,  and  demanding  the  libe¬ 
ration  of  his  master  Selim,  the  hapless  prince  was  pierced  by  the 
poniards  of  the  Kislar-Aga  and  his  eunuchs.  Sultan  Mustapha 
ordered  that  his  body  should  be  thrown  out  to  Baraictar ;  and  the 
latter  fell  prostrate  on  the  corse  of  Selim,  and  covered  it  with 
kisses  and  tears.  A  search  was  made  for  Mahmoud,  who  was 
concealed  in  the  Seraglio :  it  was  feared  that  Mustapha  had  shed 
in  him  the  last  drop  of  the  blood  of  Othman.  At  length  he  was 
discovered,  hid  in  some  rolls  of  carpet,  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the 
Seraglio.  He  thought  his  pursuers  intended  to  kill  him  ;  but 
they  placed  him  on  the  throne,  and  Baraictar  prostrated  himself 
before  him.  The  partisans  of  Mustapha  were  exposed  on  the 
Avails,  and  his  women  were  sewed  up  in  leathern  sacks,  and  cast 
into  the  sea.  In  the  course  of  a  few  days  Constantinople  was  a 
field  of  battle.  The  Janissaries  revolted  against  Baraictar,  and 
demanded  the  restoration  of  Mustapha,  whose  life  Mahmoud  had 
mercifully  spared.  The  Seraglio  was  besieged  ;  one  half  of 
Stamboul  was  devoured  by  flames.  The  friends  of  Mahmoud 
strongly  urged  him  to  sacrifice  his  father  Mustapha.  The  sen¬ 
tence  of  death  expired  on  his  lips ;  he  covered  his  head  with  a 
shawl,  and  threw  himself  on  a  sofa :  his  silence  was  interpreted 
as  assent,  and  Mustapha  was  strangled.  Mahmoud,  now  the 
last  and  only  descendant  of  Othman,  became  an  inviolable  and 
sacred  being  to  all  parties.  Baraictar  perished  in  the  flames 
whilst  fighting  near  the  Seraglio,  and  the  reign  of  Mahmoud 
commenced. 

The  square  of  the  Atmeidan,  which,  from  the  point  where  I 
now  stand,  is  marked  in  black  behind  the  white  walls  of  the  Se¬ 
raglio,  was  the  scene  of  a  great  event  in  the  reign  of  Mahmoud, — 
the  extinction  of  the  race  of  the  Janissaries.  This  measure,  the 

VOL.  II.  10* 


214 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


only  one  that  could  revive  the  empire,  has  nevertheless  produced 
one  of  the  most  sanguinary  and  horrible  scenes  that  the  an¬ 
nals  of  history  recalls.  It  is  still  recorded  in  monumental  charac¬ 
ters  in  the  ruins  of  the  Atmeidan,  and  in  traces  of  bullets  and 
fire.  Mahmoud  prepared  it  like  a  skillful  politician,  and  executed 
it  like  a  hero.  The  last  revolt  was  brought  about  by  a  mere 
accident. 

An  Egyptian  officer  struck  a  Turkish  soldier:  the  Janissaries 
threw  down  their  mess-pots.  The  sultan  was  informed  of  this, 
and  being  prepared  for  the  worst,  he  had  assembled  round  him  his 
principal  counselors  in  one  of  his  gardens  at  Beschiktaseb,  on  the 
Bosphorus.  He  repaired  to  the  Seraglio,  took  the  sacred  standard 
of  the  Prophet,  round  which  the  Mufti  and  the  Ulemas  rallied,  and 
pronounced  the  abolition  of  the  Janissaries.  The  regular  troops 
and  faithful  Mussulmans  flew  to  arms,  and  assembled  at  the  voice 
of  the  sultan.  He  himself  advanced  on  horseback  at  the  head  of 
the  troops  of  the  Seraglio.  The  Janissaries,  who  were  collected 
on  the  Atmeidan,  respected  their  sovereign,  who  several  times 
rode  through  the  mutinous  assemblage  unguarded,  but  animated 
by  that  supernatural  courage  which  a  decisive  resolution  inspires. 
That  day  was  to  be  the  last  of  his  life,  or  the  first  of  his  emanci¬ 
pation  and  his  power.  The  Janissaries,  deaf  to  his  voice,  refused 
to  submit  to  their  agas.  They  gathered  from  all  points  of  the 
capital,  to  the  number  of  forty  thousand.  The  faithful  troops  of 
the  sultan,  the  gunners,  and  the  bostangis,  occupied  the  outlets  of 
the  streets  adjoining  the  Hippodrome. 

The  sultan  ordered  the  fire  to  commence ;  the  gunners  hesi¬ 
tated,  when  a  resolute  officer,  named  Kara-Djeheunem,  advanced 
to  one  of  the  cannons,  snapped  his  pistol  into  the  touch-hole,  and 
the  first  files  of  the  Janissaries  were  leveled  with  the  dust.  The 
firing  was  now  directed  upon  every  part  of  the  square.  The 
barracks  were  soon  in  flames,  and  thousands  of  persons  confined 
in  that  narrow  space  were  either  killed  by  the  fire,  or  buried  be¬ 
neath  the  fragments  of  the  fallen  walls.  The  work  of  slaughter 
commenced,  and  ended  only  with  the  last  of  the  Janissaries.  A 
hundred  and  twenty  thousand  men,  in  the  capital  alone,  fell  a 
prey  to  the  fury  of  the  people  and  the  sultan.  The  waters  of  the 
Bosphorus  drifted  their  bodies  into  the  sea  of  Marmora.  The  re¬ 
mainder,  who  were  banished  to  Asia  Minor,  perished  on  the  way, 
and  the  empire  was  delivered.  The  sultan,  now  more  absolute  than 
any  sovereign  ever  was,  found  himself  surrounded  only  by  willing 
slaves.  He  might,  at  his  will,  have  regenerated  the  empire  ;  but 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


215 


it  was  too  late.  His  genius  was  not  on  a  level  with  his  courage. 
The  fall  of  the  Ottoman  empire  is  at  hand.  It  resembles  the 
Greek  empire.  Constantinople  awaits  new  decrees  of  fate.  I 
discern  from  hence  the  Russian  fleet,  like  the  floating  camp  of 
Mahomet  II.,  daily  pressing  near  and  more  near  to  the  city  and 
the  port ;  I  perceive  the  biouvac  fires  of  the  Calmucks  on  the 
hills  of  Asia ; — the  Greeks  are  returning  under  the  name  and  in 
the  costume  of  the  Russians  ;  and  Providence  has  marked  the  day 
when  a  last  assault  made  by  them  upon  the  walls  of  Constantino¬ 
ple  will  reduce  that  .splendid  city  to  a  mass  of  flames,  smoke,  and 
ruins. 

The  finest  point  from  which  Constantinople  can  be  viewed  is 
just  above  our  place  of  abode.  It  is  from  a  belvidere  built  by  M. 
Turqui  on  the  terraced  roof  of  his  house.  This  belvidere  com¬ 
mands  the  entire  group  of  the  hills  of  Pera,  Galata,  and  the  little 
hillocks  which  surround  the  port  on  the  fresh-water  side.  It  is 
the  eagle’s  flight  over  Constantinople  and  the  sea.  Europe,  Asia, 
the  entrance  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  the  sea  of  Marmora,  are  all 
under  the  eye  at  once.  The  city  lies  at  the  feet  of  the  spectator. 
If  we  were  allowed  to  take  a  glance  at  only  one  point  of  the  earth, 
this  would  be  the  one  to  choose.  Whenever  I  ascend  to  the  bel¬ 
videre  to  enjoy  this  view,  (and  I  do  so  several  times  a  day,  and 
invariably  every  evening),  I  cannot  conceive  how,  of  the  many 
travelers  who  have  visited  Constantinople,  so  few  have  felt  the 
beauty  which  it  presents  to  my  eye  and  to  my  mind.  Why  has 
no  one  described  it  ?  Is  it  because  words  have  neither  space, 
horizon,  nor  colors,  and  that  painting  is  the  only  language  of  the 
eye  ?  But  painting  itself  has  never  portrayed  all  that  is  here. 
The  pictures  I  have  seen  are  merely  detached  scenes,  consisting 
of  dead  lines  and  colors  without  life :  none  convey  any  idea 
of  the  innumerable  gradations  of  tints,  varying  with  every  change 
of  the  atmosphere  and  every  passing  hour.  The  harmonious 
whole,  and  the  colossal  grandeur  of  these  lines; — the  movements 
and  intertwinings  of  the  different  horizons ; — the  moving  sails 
scattered  over  the  three  seas; — the  murmur  of  the  busy  popula¬ 
tion  on  the  shores; — the  reports  of  the  cannon  on  board  the 
vessels ; — the  flags  waving  from  the  mast-heads ; — the  floating 
caiques ; — the  vaporous  reflection  of  domes,  mosques,  steeples, 
and  minarets  in  the  sea : — all  this  has  never  been  described.  I 
will  try  it. 

The  hills  of  Galata,  Pera,  and  some  others,  descending  to  the 
sea,  are  covered  with  towns  of  various  colors :  some  have  their 


210 


A  FZLOKjMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


houses  painted  bright  red ;  others  black,  with  numerous  blue 
cupolas  relieving  the  sombre  tint.  Between  the  cupolas  are  per¬ 
ceived  patches  of  verdure  formed  by  the  plantains,  fig  trees,  and 
cypresses  of  the  little  gardens  adjoining  each  house.  Between 
the  houses  there  are  large  spaces :  these  are  cultivated  fields  and 
gardens,  in  which  may  be  discerned  groups  of  Turkish  women 
covered  with  their  black  veils,  and  playing  with  their  children 
and  their  slaves  beneath  the  shade  of  the  trees.  Flights  of  turtle¬ 
doves  and  white  pigeons  float  in  the  air  above  these  gardens  and 
the  roofs  of  the  houses  ;  and,  like  light  flowers  blown  by  the  breeze, 
stand  out  from  the  background  of  the  picture,  which  is  the  blue 
sea.  One  may  discern  the  streets,  winding,  as  they  descend  to¬ 
wards  the  sea,  like  ravines :  and  lower  down,  the  bustle  of  the 
bazaars,  which  are  enveloped  in  a  veil  of  light  and  transparent 
smoke.  These  towns,  or  these  quarters  of  towns,  are  separated 
one  from  another  by  promontories  of  verdure,  crowned  by  wooden 
palaces  and  kiosks  painted  in  every  color, — or  by  deep  valleys, 
whence  arise  the  heads  of  cypress  trees,  and  the  pointed  and 
brilliant  spires  of  minarets. 

On  reaching  the  sea,  the  eye  wanders  over  its  blue  surface 
amidst  a  labyrinth- of  vessels,  some  sailing  and  some  lying  at 
anchor.  The  caiques  look  like  water-birds :  they  float  some¬ 
times  in  groups  and  sometimes  singly,  and  cross  each  other  in 
every  direction,  proceeding  from  Europe  to  Asia,  or  from  Pera  to 
the  Seraglio  point.  Some  frigates  at  full  sail  issuing  from  the 
Bosphorus,  salute  the  Seraglio :  the  smoke  rising  from  their  two 
sides  like  gray  wings,  envelopes  them  for  a  moment ;  but  their 
white  sails  again  reappear,  and  they  double  the  Grand  Signor’s 
garden,  (seeming  almost  to  touch  the  cypresses  and  plane  trees,) 
to  enter  the  sea  of  Marmora.  About  thirty  or  forty  frigates,  form¬ 
ing  the  whole  fleet  of  the  sultan,  are  anchored  at  the  entrance  of 
the  Bosphorus.  They  overshadow  the  water  on  the  land  side  ; 
only  five  or  six  of  these  ships  are  distinctly  discernible :  the  hill 
and  the  trees  partly  conceal  the  rest,  whose  masts  and  rigging 
seem  intertwined  with  the  cypresses  forming  a  circular  avenue 
extending  up  the  Bosphorus.  Here  the  mountains  on  the  opposite 
side,  or  on  the  Asiatic  shore,  form  the  background  of  the  picture. 
They  are  higher  and  greener  than  those  on  the  European  shore. 
They  are  crowned  by  thick  forests.  On  their  acclivities  are 
gardens,  kiosks,  pavilions,  villages,  and  small  mosques  curtained 
round  with  trees.  Their  bays  are  filled  with  vessels  lying  at 
anchor,  caiques  rowing  to  and  fro,  and  small  sailing  barks.  The 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND 


217 


large  town  of  Scutari  extends  at  the  feet  of  these  mountains,  on  a 
broad  margin  shaded  by  their  brows,  and  encircled  by  a  forest  of 
black  cypress  trees.  A  string  of  caiques  and  boats,  filled  with 
Asiatic  soldiers,  horses,  or  Greek  cultivators  bringing  their  vege¬ 
tables  to  Constantinople,  is  incessantly  moving  between  Scutari 
and  Galata ;  and  this  line  is  continually  broken  by  another  line 
of  large  vessels  debouching  from  the  sea  of  Marmora. 

Turning  again  to  the  European  coast,  but  looking  towards 
the  other  side  of  the  canal  of  the  Golden  Horn,  the  first  object 
on  which  the  eye  rests  after  glancing  across  the  blue  basin 
of  the  canal,  is  the  Seraglio  point.  This  is  the  most  majestic, 
the  most  varied,  the  most  magnificent,  and  the  most  wild  pros¬ 
pect  that  can  be  conceived.  The  Seraglio  point  advances  like 
a  promontory,  or  a  flat  cape  into  the  three  seas,  and  fronts 
the  coast  of  Asia.  This  promontory,  commencing  at  the  gate  of  the 
Seraglio,  on  the  sea  of  Marmora,  and  ending  at  the  grand  kiosk 
of  the  sultan,  opposite  the  quay  of  Pera,  may  measure  three  quar¬ 
ters  of  a  league  in  circumference.  It  is  a  triangle  ;  its  base  being 
the  palace,  or  the  Seraglio  point  itself,  projecting  into  the' sea,  and 
its  most  extended  side  looking  to  the  inner  port  or  canal  of  Con¬ 
stantinople.  The  spot  where  I  now  trace  this  description  com¬ 
mands  a  full  view  of  it.  It  is  a  forest  of  gigantic  trees,  whose 
trunks  rise  like  columns,  or  like  inclosing  walls,  and  whose 
branches  overshadow  the  mosques,  the  batteries,  and  the  vessels 
in  the  sea.  These  woods  of  dark  and  glossy  green  are  interspers¬ 
ed  with  verdant  lawns,  parterres  of  flowers,  balustrades  and 
flights  of  marble  steps,  gilt  or  leaden  cupolas,  minarets  as  slender 
as  the  masts  of  a  ship,  large  domes  of  palaces,  and  the  mosques 
and  kiosks  which  surround  those  palaces.  This  prospect  closely 
resembles  that  presented  by  the  palace  of  St.  Cloud,  when  viewed 
from  the  opposite  banks  of  the  Seine,  or  from  the  hills  of  Meudon. 

But  the  spots  which  I  have  just  described  are  surrounded  on 
three  sides  by  the  sea,  and  commanded  on  the  fourth  by  the  cu¬ 
polas  of  the  numerous  mosques,  and  by  the  ocean  of  houses  and 
streets  which  form  the  real  Constantinople,  or  the  city  of  Stam- 
boul.  The  mosque  of  St.  Sophia,  the  St.  Peter’s  of  the  Eastern 
Rome,  raises  its  massive  gigantic  dome  above  and  quite  close  to 
the  outward  walls  of  the  Seraglio.  St.  Sophia  looks  like  an 
irregularly  formed  hill  of  stones,  surmounted  by  a  dome,  which 
glitters  in  the  sun  like  a  sea  of  lead.  At  a  little  distance  are  the 
more  modern  mosques  of  Achmet,  Bajazet,  Soliman  and  Sultania, 
all  of  which  tower  to  the  clouds,  with  minarets  intersected  by 


218 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Moorish  galleries.  Cypresses  almost  as  tall  as  the  minarets  are 
intermingled  with  them,  and  their  black  foliage  contrasts  with  the 
brilliant  glitters  of  the  edifices.  On  the  summit  of  the  flat  hill  of 
Stamboul,  there  are  discerned  among  the  walls  of  the  edifices  and 
the  stems  of  the  minarets,  one  or  two  eminences  blackened  by  fire 
and  bronzed  by  time.  These  are  some  remains  of  the  ancient 
Byzantium,  standing  in  the  square  of  the  Hippodrome  or  the  At- 
meidan.  There  likewise  may  be  discerned  the  vast  lines  of 
several  palaces  of  the  sultan  or  his  viziers.  The  divan,  whose  gate 
has  given  the  name  of  Sublime  Porte  to  the  Empire,  is  in  this  group 
of  edifices.  Further  up,  and  clearly  defined  on  the  azure  back¬ 
ground  of  the  sky,  stands  a  splendid  mosque  which  crowns  the 
hill  and  overlooks  the  two  seas.  Its  gilt  cupola,  lighted  by  the 
sun,  seems  to  emit  rays  of  fire,  and  the  transparency  of  its  dome, 
and  its  walls  surmounted  by  aerial  galleries,  give  it  the  appear¬ 
ance  of  a  monument  made  of  silver  or  bluish-colored  porcelain. 

The  horizon  in  this  direction  terminates,  and  the  eye  descends 
over  two  other  broad  hills  thickly  covered  with  mosques,  palaces, 
and  painted  houses,  until  it  reaches  the  extremity  of  the  port,  where 
the  sea  diminishes  insensibly  in  width,  and  disappears  beneath  the 
trees  in  the  Arcadian  valley  of  the  fresh  waters  of  Europe.  In 
the  canal  arise  groups  of  masts,  belonging  to  the  vessels  moored 
off  the  Death  Quay  in  the  arsenal,  and  under  the  cypress  forests 
which  flank  Constantinople.  The  tower  of  Galata,  built  by  the 
Genoese,  rises  like  the  mast  of  a  ship  from  an  ocean  of  house-tops, 
and  forms  a  colossal  boundary  between  Galata  and  Pera.  At  last 
the  eye  reposes  on  the  tranquil  basin  of  the  Bosphorus,  uncertain 
whether  to  turn  towards  Europe  or  Asia. 

Such  are  the  prominent  points  of  the  picture ;  but  if  you  add 
to  these  the  vast  framework  which  encircles  it  and  makes  it  stand 
out  from  its  back-ground  of  sky  and  sea,  viz.,  the  black  lines  of 
the  Asiatic  mountains,  the  low  and  vapory  horizons  of  the  Gulf  of 
Nicomedia,  the  summits  of  the  Olympus  of  Brussa,  rising  behind 
the  Seraglio,  beyond  the  sea  of  Marmora,  and  which  appear  like 
white  clouds  in  the  firmament : — if  you  add  to  this  majestic  whole, 
the  grace  and  coloring  of  the  details — if  you  can  picture  in  ima¬ 
gination  the  varied  effects  produced  on  the  sea  and  the  city  by  the 
sky,  the  wind,  and  the  different  hours  of  the  day — if  fleets  of  mer¬ 
chant  vessels,  like  flights  of  sea-birds,  detaching  themselves  from 
the  dark  groves  of  the  Seraglio,  floating  in  the  middle  of  the  ca¬ 
nal,  and  then  slowly  sailing  down  the  Bosphorus,  forming  ever- 
changing  groups  )  if  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun  gild  the  tops  of 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


219 


the  trees  and  the  minarets,  and  illumine  as  if  with  fire  the  red 
walls  of  Scutari  and  Stamboul  ; — if  a  dead  calm  should  lull  the 
sea  of  Marmora  to  the  stillness  of  a  lake  of  molten  lead,  or  if  a 
breeze  should  lightly  ruffle  the  Bosphorus,  seeming  to  spread 
over  its  surface  the  resplendent  meshes  of  a  sea-work  of  silver; 
— if  the  smoke  of  the  steamboats  rises  and  winds  round  the  broad 
trembling  sails  of  the  sultan’s  frigates ; — if  the  guns  fired  for 
prayers  on  board  the  vessels  of  the  fleet  resound  in  prolonged 
echoes  to  the  cypresses  surrounding  the  cemetery  ; — if  the  vari¬ 
ous  noises  from  the  seven  cities,  and  the  thousands  of  vessels,  rise 
from  the  shore  and  the  sea,  and  are  wafted  by  the  breeze  to  the 
hill  whence  you  are  looking  down  ; — if  you  consider  that  the  sky 
is  always  of  a  pure  dark  blue — that  these  seas  and  these  natural 
ports  are  ever  tranquil  and  safe — that  every  house  along  these 
shores  has  a  creek  in  which  a  vessel  may  lie  in  all  weathers  un¬ 
der  the  very  windows — that  large  three-deckers  are  built  and 
launched  beneath  the  plane  trees  on  the  shore  ; — if  you  recollect 
that  you  are  in  Constantinople,  the  queen  of  Europe  and  Asia,  at 
the  precise  point  where  these  two  quarters  of  the  world  meet,  as 
it  were,  either  for  friendly  greeting,  or  for  combat; — if  night 
should  surprise  you  whilst  contemplating  this  prospect,  which  can 
never  weary  the  eye  :  if  the  pharos  of  Galata,  the  Seraglio,  and 
Scutari,  and  the  lights  on  the  high  poops  of  the  vessels  are  glim¬ 
mering  ; — if  the  stars  detach  themselves  one  by  one,  or  in  groups, 
from  the  azure  firmament,  and  envelope  the  mountains  of  the  Asi¬ 
atic  coast,  the  snows  of  Olympus,  the  Princes  Islands  in  the  sea 
of  Marmora,  the  level  height  of  the  Seraglio,  the  hills  of  Stamboul 
and  the  three  seas,  so  that  the  whole  scene  seems  to  float  in  a  blue 
net-work  besprinkled  with  pearls ; — if  the  rising  moon  suffuses 
sufficient  light  to  show  the  great  masses  of  the  picture,  while  it 
obscures  or  softens  the  details  ; — you  have  at  every  hour  of  the 
day  and  night  the  most  delicious  spectacle  that  can  charm  the 
sight.  It  is  enchantment  of  the  eye  which  communicates  to  the 
mind  ; — a  dazzling  of  the  sight  and  soul.  This  is  the  spectacle 
which  I  have  enjoyed  every  day  and  every  night  for  the  space  of 
a  month. 

The  French  ambassador  having  proposed  that  I  should  accom¬ 
pany  him  in  the  visit  which  all  the  ambassadors  on  their  arrival 
are  privileged  to  pay  to  St.  Sophia,  I  arrived  at  eight  o’clock 
this  morning  at  one  of  the  gates  leading  to  the  sea,  behind  the 
walls  of  the  Seraglio.  One  of  the  principal  officers  of  the  sultan 
met  us  at  the  landing-place  and  conducted  us  to  his  house,  where 


220 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


he  had  ordered  a  collation  to  be  prepared.  The  apartments  were 
numeious  and  elegantly  decorated,  but  without  any  other  furni¬ 
ture  than  divans  and  pipes.  The  divans  were  placed  against  the 
windows,  which  looked  upon  the  sea  of  Marmora.  The  collation 
was  served  in  the  European  style,  the  viands  alone  being  national. 
These  were  numerous  and  choice,  but  they  were  all  new  to  us. 
When  we  had  concluded  our  repast,  the  ladies  were  conducted  to 
visit  the  wives  of  the  Turkish  colonel,  who  were  assembled  for 
that  day  in  a  lower  apartment,  the  harem  or  women’s  apartment 
being  that  in  which  we  had  been  received.  We  were  furnished 
with  Asiatic  slippers,  of  yellow  morocco,  to  enter  the  mosque  ; 
otherwise  we  should  have  been  obliged  to  take  off  our  boots  and 
walk  barefooted.  We  entered  the  court-yard  of  the  mosque  sur¬ 
rounded  by  a  number  of  guards,  who  kept  back  the  crowd  which 
had  assembled  to  see  us.  The  Osman lis  looked  gloomy  and  dis¬ 
contented  ;  for  the  zealous  Mussulmans  regard  the  admission  of 
Christians  as  a  profanation  of  their  sanctuaries.  As  soon  as  we 
entered,  the  gate  of  the  mosque  was  closed. 

St.  Sophia,  which  was  built  by  Constantine,  is  one  of  the 
largest  edifices  ever  raised  for  the  purpose  of  Christian  worship  ; 
but  it  is  evident,  from  the  barbarous  style  of  art  which  pervades 
the  mass  of  stone,  that  it  is  the  production  of  a  vitiated  and  de¬ 
clining  age.  It  is  a  confused  memorial  of  a  taste  which  no  longer 
exists — the  imperfect  production  of  an  art  in  its  infancy.  The 
temple  is  encompassed  by  a  spacious  peristyle,  covered  and  closed 
like  that  of  St.  Peter’s  at  Rome.  Columns  of  granite,  of  pro¬ 
digious  height,  but  imbedded  in  the  wails,  separate  this  vestibule 
from  the  court  in  front  of  the  porch.  A  large  gate  opens  into  the 
interior.  The  walls  of  the  church  are  decorated  on  each  side  by 
superb  columns  of  porphyry,  Egyptian  granite,  and  rare  kinds  of 
marble.  But  these  columns,  which  are  of  disproportionate  size, 
and  of  various  orders,  are  evidently  fragments  taken  from  other 
temples,  and  are  placed  here  without  regard  to  symmetry  or  taste, 
as  savages  might  support  a  rude  hut  with  the  mutilated  remains 
of  a  palace.  Gigantic  pillars,  of  coarse  workmanship,  support  an 
elevated  dome  like  that  of  St.  Peter’s,  and  the  effect  of  which  is 
certainly  not  less  majestic.  This  dome,  which  was  anciently  or¬ 
namented  with  mosaic  work,  forming  pictures  on  the  ceiling,  was 
plastered  over  when  Mahomet  II.  took  possession  of  St.  Sophia 
and  converted  it  into  a  mosque.  Some  portions  of  the  plaster  have 
fallen  off,  and  here  and  there  allow  the  ancient  Christian  decora¬ 
tion  to  re-appear.  Circular  galleries  are  carried  up  all  around 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


221 


the  building,  as  high  as  the  very  top  of  the  dome.  Viewed  from 
the  upper  galleries,  the  aspect  of  the  edifice  is  beautiful.  Vast, 
sombre,  without  ornament,  with  its  broken  arches  and  its  dirty 
columns,  it  resembles  the  interior  of  a  colossal  tomb,  the  reliques 
of  which  have  been  dispersed.  It  inspires  awe,  silence,  and  medi¬ 
tation  on  the  instability  of  the  works  of  man,  who  raises  struc¬ 
tures  for  principles  which  he  conceives  to  be  eternal,  and  which 
succeeding  principles  demolish  or  appropriate.  In  its  present 
state,  St.  Sophia  resembles  an  immense  caravansary  of  God.  Here 
are  the  columns  of  the  temple  of  Ephesus,  and  the  figures  of  the 
Apostles,  encircled  with  gilded  glories,  looking  down  upon  the 
hanging  lamps  of  the  I  man. 

Leaving  St.  Sophia,  we  proceeded  to  the  seven  principal 
mosques  of  Constantinople.  We  found  them  less  spacious,  but 
far  more  beautiful.  Mahometanism  has  its  own  peculiar  art  of 
building, —  an  art  exactly  conformable  to  the  luminous  simplicity 
of  its  faith.  This  is  exemplified  in  the  chaste,  regular,  and  splen¬ 
did  temples,  without  recesses  for  mysteries,  and  without  altars  for 
victims.  The  seven  mosques  are  alike  in  grandeur  and  nearly 
in  color.  They  have  _pacious  courts  in  front,  surrounded  by 
cloisters,  containing  the  schools  and  the  apartments  of  the  Imans. 
The  courts  are  shaded  by  superb  trees,  while  numerous  fountains 
diffuse  their  murmurs  and  their  delicious  freshness  around.  Mi¬ 
narets  of  exquisite  workmanship  rise  from  their  domes  like  the 
four  cardinal  points  at  the  four  angles  of  the  mosque.  Small  cir¬ 
cular  galleries,  with  curved  stone  parapets  in  elaborate  open-work 
like  lace,  surround  at  different  heights  the  light  spire  of  the  mina¬ 
rets.  To  these,  at  various  periods  of  the  day,  the  Muezlim 
ascends  to  proclaim  the  hour,  and  to  summon  the  people  to,  what 
is  ever  in  the  mind  of  Mahometans,  the  contemplation  of  God. 
A  portico,  elevated  by  a  few  steps,  leads  to  the  gate  of  the  temple. 
The  temple  is  either  of  a  round  or  square  form,  surmounted  by  a 
cupola  supported  by  elegant  pillars  or  beautiful  fluted  columns. 
A  pulpit  is  placed  against  one  of  these  pillars.  The  frieze  is 
composed  of  verses  from  the  Koran,  inscribed  in  ornamental  char¬ 
acters  on  the  walls,  which  are  painted  in  arabesque  ornaments. 
From  pillar  to  pillar  are  fixed  iron  wires,  from  'which  are  sus¬ 
pended  lamps,  the  eggs  of  ostriches,  and  bunches  of  spices,  or 
flowers  ;  mats  of  rushes  or  of  rich  cloth  cover  the  floor.  The 
effect  of  the  whole  is  simple  and  grand.  The  mosque  is  not  a 
temple  inhabited  by  a  deity  ;  it  is  a  house  of  prayer  and  contem¬ 
plation  to  which  men  resort  to  adore  the  one  and  universal  God. 


222 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


What  we  call  worship  does  not  exist  in  the  Mahometan  religion. 
Mahomet  preached  his  faith  to  barbarian  tribes,  in  the  ceremonies 
of  whose  worship  the  Deity  was  lost  sight  of.  The  rites  of  the 
Mahometans  are  simple  ;  an  annual  festival,  together  with  ablu¬ 
tion  and  prayer  at  the  five  divisions  of  the  day,  are  their  only  cer¬ 
emonies.  Their  only  dogma  is  belief  in  a  creating  and  rewarding 
God.  They  have  banished  images  lest  they  should  work  upon 
the  weakness  of  human  imagination,  and  convert  mere  me¬ 
morials  into  objects  of  sinful  idolatry.  There  was  originally  no 
priesthood, — or,  more  properly  speaking,  every  one  of  the  faithful 
was  competent  to  discharge  the  duties  of  priesthood.  The  sacer¬ 
dotal  body  was  the  later  work  of  corruption.  Whenever  I  have 
entered  the  mosques,  I  have  invariably  found  a  few  Turks  pros¬ 
trate  on  the  carpet,  and  praying  with  all  the  external  signs  of 
fervor  and  complete  absorption  of  mind. 

In  the  court  of  the  mosques  of  Bajazet,  I  saw  the  empty  tomb 
of  Constantine.  It  consists  of  a  vase  of  porphyry  of  such  pro¬ 
digious  size  that  it  might  have  held  the  remains  of  twenty  heroes. 
This  vase  is  evidently  a  production  of  Greek  art,  some  relic  of  the 
temple  of  Diana  at  Ephesus.  Thus  do  different  ages  bequeath  to 
each  other  their  temples  as  well  as  their  tombs,  but  divested  of 
their  contents.  Where  are  now  the  bones  of  Constantine  ?  The 
Turks  have  enclosed  his  sepulchre  in  a  kiosk,  and  will  not  sufFer 
it  to  be  profaned.  The  tombs  of  the  sultans  and  of  their  families 
are  in  the  gardens  of  the  mosques  they  have  built :  they  are  under 
marble  kiosks,  shaded  by  trees  and  perfumed  by  flowers.  A  va¬ 
riety  of  springs  murmur  around  these  kiosks,  and  the  Mussulmans 
regard  the  memory  of  the  dead  with  such  reverence,  that  I  never 
passed  by  one  of  these  tombs  without  observing  fresh  nosegays 
placed  at  the  door  or  upon  the  windows  of  the  numerous  monu¬ 
ments. 

I  have  just  returned  from  an  excursion  down  and  up  the  Bos¬ 
phorus,  from  Constantinople  to  the  mouth  of  the  Black  Sea.  I 
wish  to  sketch  for  myself  some  of  the  traits  of  this  delightful 
scenery.  I  could  not  have  believed  that  sky,  earth,  sea,  and  man, 
could  produce  such  a  combination  of  enchanting  prospects ;  the 
transparent  mirror  of  the  sky  or  the  sea  can  alone  reflect  them 
in  their  whole  expanse.  My  imagination  also  embraces  them  in 
this  extended  way ;  but  my  memory  cannot  retain  and  reproduce 
them  except  in  little  successive  details.  I  therefore  traced  singly 
every  different  point  of  view  as  I  glided  along  in  my  caique.  A 
painter  would  require  years  to  depict  only  one  shore  of  the  Bos- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOL  V  LAND. 


223 


is 


M 


phorus.  The  landscape  changes  at  every  glance,  and  as  it  varies 
presents  renewed  beauty.  What  can  I  say  in  a  few  words  ? 

The  morning  was  clear  and  sunshiny,  and  at  seven  o’clock  I 
embarked  in  one  of  these  long  caiques  which  dash  through  the 
waves  like  fish,  I  took  with  me  four  Arnaut  rowers  and  an  inter¬ 
preter;  the  latter  seated  between  the  rowers  and  me,  told  me  the 
names  of  places  and  things.  We  rowed  along  the  quays  of  To- 
phana  and  the  artillery  barracks.  The  town  of  Tophana  rises  in 
tiers  of  painted  houses,  like  bouquets  of  flowers,  grouped  round  the 
marble  mosque,  and  is  partly  lost  beneath  the  shade  of  the  high 
cypresses  of  the  cemetery  of  Pera.  This  curtain  of  sombre  fo¬ 
liage  terminates  the  hills  on  that  side.  We  glided  on  between 
vessels  lying  at  anchor,  and  innumerable  caiques  conveying  to 
Constantinople  the  officers  of  the  Seraglio,  the  ministers  and  their 
kiaias,  and  the  families  of  the  Armenian  traders  whom  the  hour 
of  labor  summoned  to  their  shops  and  warehouses.  These  Ar¬ 
menians  are  a  fine  race  of  men.  Their  costume  is  dignified  and 
simple,  consisting  of  a  black  turban,  and  a  long  blue  robe,  con¬ 
fined  round  the  waist  by  a  white  cashmere  shawl.  Their  figures 
are  athletic,  and  their  countenances  intelligent  but  vulgar.  Their 
complexions  are  fresh,  their  eyes  blue,  and  their  beards  fair. 
They  may  be  called  the  Swiss  of  the  East.  Like  the  Swiss  of 
Europe,  they  are  laborious,  peaceful,  and  regular;  but,  like  them 
they  are  calculating  and  avaricious.  They  barter  their  trading 
talent  for  the  wages  of  the  Sultan  or  the  Turks.  There  is  noth¬ 
ing  heroic  or  warlike  in  their  nature.  Commerce  is  their  deity  ; 
they  would  pursue  it  under  any  master.  No  other  class  of  Chris¬ 
tians  accord  so  well  with  the  Turks.  They  accumulate  the 
wealth  which  the  Turks  neglect,  and  which  escapes  the  grasp  of 
the  Greeks  and  the  Jews.  Every  thing  here  is  in  their  hands  ; 
they  are  the  dragomans  of  all  the  pachas  and  viziers.  The  Ar¬ 
menian  females  have  pure  and  delicate  features ;  their  placid 
beauty  resembles  that  of  the  English  women  or  the  peasants  of 
Helvetia.  The  children  too  are  very  handsome.  The  caiques 
which  glide  past  us  are  filled  with  these  Armenians.  On  the 
prow  of  their  boats  are  baskets  of  flowers,  which  they  have  brought 
from  their  country-houses. 

We  now  begin  to  turn  the  point  of  Tophana,  and  are  getting 
under  the  shadow  of  the  large  vessels  belonging  to  the  Ottoman 
fleet,  which  is  riding  at  anchor  off  the  European  coast.  These 
huge  masses  sleep  here  as  calmly  as  on  the  bosom  of  a  lake. 
Sailors  dressed  like  the  Turkish  soldiers,  in  red  or  blue,  are  care- 


224 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


lessly  leaning  on  the  shrouds,  whilst  others  are  bathing  round  the 
keels.  Large  shallops,  laden  with  troops,  are  passing  to  and  fro 
between  the  shore  and  the  fleet ;  and  the  elegant  boats  of  the 
Capital!  Pacha,  each  manned  with  twenty  rowers,  dart  past  us 
like  arrows.  Admiral  Tahir  Pacha  and  his  officers  are  dressed 
in  loose  brown  coats  or  pelisses,  and  on  their  heads  they  wear  the 
fez  (a  large  woolen  cap),  which  they  draw  down  over  their  fore- 
heads,  as  if  ashamed  of  having  abandoned  the  noble  and  graceful 
turban.  These  men  have  an  air  of  melancholy  and  resignation: 
they  are  smoking  their  long  pipes  with  mouthpieces  of  amber. 
There  are  lying  here  about  thirty  fine  ships  of  war,  seemingly 
ready  to  set  sail  ;  but  there  are  neither  officers  nor  seamen,  and 
this  magnificent  fleet  is  merely  an  ornament  of  the  Bosphorus. 
Whilst  the  sultan  views  it  from  his  kiosk  of  Beglierbeg,  on  the 
opposite  coast  of  Asia,  the  two  or  three  frigates  of  Ibrahim  Pacha 
are  in  undisturbed  possession  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  the  barks 
of  Samos  command  the  Archipelago.  At  a  few  yards  from  these 
vessels,  along  the  shore  of  Europe,  I  pass  under  the  windows  of  a 
magnificent  palace  of  the  sultan.  It  looks  like  the  abode  of  am- 
phibious  beings.  The  waves  of  the  Bosphorus,  when  agitated  by 
a  breeze,  touch  the  windows,  and  cast  their  foam  into  the  apart¬ 
ments  of  the  ground-floor.  The  flights  of  steps  are  washed  with 
the  water,  and  through  the  iron-work  of  the  gates  the  sea  finds  its 
way  into  the  court-yards  and  gardens.  Here  are  basins  for  the 
caiques,  and  baths  for  the  sultanas,  who  may  almost  plunge  into 
it,  screened  by  the  curtains  of  their  saloons.  Behind  these  mari¬ 
time  court-yards,  gardens  planted  with  shrubs  and  flowers  rise  in 
successive  rows,  ornamented  with  terraces  and  gilt  kiosks.  These 
flowery  parterres  are  lost  in  the  thick  woods  of  oak,  laurel,  and 
plantain  trees,  which  cover  the  declivities,  and  rise  to  the  very 
summit  of  the  eminence.  The  sultan’s  apartments  are  now  open, 
and  I  can  see  through  the  the  windows  the  rich  gold  mouldings  of 
the  ceilings,  the  crystal  lustres,  the  divans,  and  the  silken  cur¬ 
tains.  The  windows  of  the  harem  are  closed  by  thick  gratings 
of  wood  elegantly  carved.  Having  passed  this  palace,  we  arrive 
at  an  uninterrupted  series  of  palaces,  houses,  and  gardens,  be¬ 
longing  to  the  principal  favorites,  ministers,  or  pachas  of  the  grand 
signior :  they  all  lie  on  the  margin  of  the  sea,  as  if  fondly  inhal¬ 
ing  its  freshness.  Their  windows  are  open.  Turks  are  reclining 
on  divans  in  spacious  apartments  resplendent  with  gold  and  silken 
draperies  :  they  are  smoking,  chatting,  sipping  sherbet,  and  look¬ 
ing  at  us  as  we  pass  by.  These  windows  open  upon  terraces, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


225 


i 


thickly  planted  with  vines,  shrubs,  and  flowers.  Numerous  slaves, 
richly  dressed,  are  seated  on  the  flight  of  steps  leading  down  to 
the  sea,  and  caiques  manned  with  rowers  are  waiting  in  readiness 
to  receive  the  masters  of  these  lovely  dwellings.  In  all  these 
houses  the  harem  forms  a  wing,  separated  by  gardens  or  court¬ 
yards  from  the  apartments  of  the  men.  The  harem  windows  are 
grated.  I  only  see  now  and  then  the  head  of  a  pretty  child 
thrust  through  the  openings,  among  the  vines  and  creeping  flow¬ 
ers,  to  look  at  the  sea,  or  the  white  arm  of  a  woman  opening  or 
closing  a  window-blind.  These  palaces  and  houses  are  all  built  of 
wood,  but  very  richly  worked  :  they  have  projecting  roofs,  galle¬ 
ries,  and  balustrades  without  number,  and  are  all  shaded  by  large 
trees,  creeping  plants,  and  groves  of  jasmine  and  roses.  All  are 
washed  by  the  waves  of  the  Bosphorus,  and  have  inner  courts 
into  which  the  sea  enters,  and  where  the  caiques  float.  The  Bos¬ 
phorus  is  so  deep  in  all  its  parts,  that  we  rowed  quite  at  the  mar¬ 
gin  of  the  shore  to  inhale  the  balmy  perfume  of  the  flowers,  and 
to  allow  our  rowers  to  enjoy  the  shade  of  the  trees.  Large  ves¬ 
sels  passed  as  closely  as  we  did,  and  not  unfrequently  the  yards 
of  a  brig  became  entangled  in  the  branches  of  a  tree,  the  trellis 
of  a  vine,  or  even  the  blind  of  a  window,  carrying  away  a  frag¬ 
ment  of  the  foliage  or  the  house.  These  houses  are  separated 
one  from  the  other  only  by  clumps  of  trees  planted  on  some  pro¬ 
jecting  piece  of  ground,  or  by  angles  of  rock,  covered  with  ivy 
and  moss,  which  descend  from  the  hills,  and  extend  to  the  length 
of  several  feet  in  the  water.  Here  and  there  a  bay  of  greater 
width  and  depth  runs  in  between  two  hills  which  are  separated 
by  the  bed  of  a  torrent  or  streamlet.  A  village  then  extends 
along  the  smooth  banks  of  these  little  gulfs,  with  its  beautiful 
Moorish  fountains,  its  mosque  with  cupolas  of  gold  and  azure,  and 
its  light  minaret  towering  to  the  tops  of  the  plantain  trees.  The 
little  houses  rise  in  amphitheatres  round  these  gulfs,  with  their 
faqades  and  kiosks  painted  a  thousand  colors.  Large  villas  ex¬ 
tend  along  the  brows  of  the  hills,  flanked  by  gardens  and  groves 
of  fir  trees,  which  terminate  the  horizon.  At  the  foot  of  each  of 
these  villages  there  is  a  quay  of  granite  a  few  feet  broad.  These 
quays  are  planted  with  sycamores,  vines,  and  jasmines,  which 
hangover  into  the  sea,  forming  arbors,  beneath  which  the  caiques 
lie  for  shelter.  Trading  vessels  of  every  nation  anchor  in  front 
of  the  warehouses  of  the  merchants  and  ship  owners,  and  the 
merchandise  is  frequently  carried  along  a  plank  fixed  from  the 
deck  of  a  ship  to  a  window.  Numbers  of  children,  and  dealers 


226 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


in  fruit  and  vegetables,  are  moving  along  the  quays,  which  are 
the  bazaars  of  the  villages  of  the  Bosphorus.  Sailors  in  the 
dresses  of  all  nations,  and  speaking  all  languages,  are  grouped 
amongst  the  Osmanlis,  who  are  squatted  on  their  carpets  near  the 
fountains,  or  round  the  trunks  of  the  plantain  trees. 

None  of  the  villages  of  Lucerne  or  Interlaken  can  afford  any 
idea  of  the  exquisite  grace  and  picturesque  effect  of  these  little 
gulfs  of  the  Bosphorus :  I  could  not  avoid  stopping  to  look  at 
them.  These  little  villages  are  met  with  every  five  minutes, 
along  the  first  half  of  the  European  coast, — that  is  to  say,  for  the 
space  of  two  or  three  leagues.  They  afterwards  become  less 
frequent,  and  the  landscape  assumes  a  more  wild  character,  on 
account  of  the  increasing  height  of  the  hills,  and  the  depths  of  the 
forests.  I  here  speak  only  of  the  European  coast.  I  shall  on  my 
return  describe  the  coast  of  Asia,  which  is  still  more  beautiful. 
But  to  form  a  correct  idea  of  the  whole,  it  must  be  borne  in  mind, 
that  the  shore  of  Asia  is  but  a  very  little  distance  from  us ;  that 
we  are  frequently  equally  near  both  shores,  where  we  keep  the 
middle  of  the  current,  in  parts  where  the  channel  becomes  narrow 
or  takes  turns ;  so  that  similar  scenes  to  those  which  I  am  now 
describing  meet 'my  eyes  whenever  I  turn  towards  Asia. 

But  to  return  to  the  shore  along  which  our  caique  is  now 
closely  floating.  After  passing  the  last  of  these  natural  ports 
above  mentioned,  there  is  a  spot  where  the  Bosphorus  imbeds  it¬ 
self  like  a  broad  and  rapid  river,  between  two  promonotories  of 
rock,  which  descend  perpendicularly  from  the  summit  of  a 
double  range  of  mountains.  The  channel  takes  a  turn,  and 
seems  there  entirely  to  close.  In  proportion  as  we  advance,  how¬ 
ever,  we  see  it  unfold,  and  turn  behind  the  European  cape ;  then 
widening,  it  forms  a  sort  of  lake,  on  the  banks  of  which  stand 
the  two  towns  Therapia  and  Buyukdere.  From  top  to  bottom  of 
the  two  promonotories  of  rock,  which  are  clothed  with  vegetation, 
there  rise  some  half-ruined  fortifications,  white  cranied  turrets, 
drawbridges,  and  towers,  built  after  the  manner  of  the  beautiful 
structures  of  the  middle  ages.  These  are  the  two  famous  castles 
of  Europe  and  Asia,  whence  Mahomet  II.  so  long  maintained  the 
siege  of  Constantinople,  before  he  succeeded  in  gaining  possession 
of  the  city.  The  castles  rise  like  two  white  phantoms  from  the 
black  bosom  to  the  pines  and  cypresses,  and  seem  to  close  the 
entrance  to  the  two  seas. 

These  towers  and  turrets,  looking  down  upon  the  ships  at  full 
sail, — the  long  branches  of  ivy  hanging  like  warriors’  cloaks  over 


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A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


227 


the  half-ruined  walls, — the  gray  rocks  on  which  the  castles  stand, 
and  whose  angles  project  from  amidst  the  surrounding  verdure, — 
and  the  broad  shadows  which  they  cast  on  the  water,  altogether 
render  this  one  of  the  most  characteristic  points  of  the  Bosphorus. 
Here  it  loses  its  exclusively  graceful  aspect,  and  assumes  an  ap¬ 
pearance  alternately  graceful  and  sublime.  At  the  foot  of  these 
two  castles  there  are  Turkish  cemeteries,  and  turbans  sculptured 
in  white  marble  are  seen  here  and  there  amidst  the  foliage  washed 
by  the  waves.  What  a  happy  race  are  the  Turks  !  Their  ashes 
always  repose  in  the  spot  of  their  predilection, — beneath  the 
shade  of  the  tree  or  the  shrub  which  they  cherished  in  life, — 
on  the  bank  of  the  current  whose  murmur  has  delighted  them, — 
visited  by  the  doves  which  their  hands  fed,  and  embalmed  by  the 
perfume  of  the  flowers  which  they  planted.  If  they  possessed 
no  portion  of  earth  during  life,  they  possess  it  after  death  :  they 
do  not  consign  the  remains  of  those  they  have  loved  to  charnel- 
houses,  whence  horror  repels  the  worship  and  the  piety  of  remem¬ 
brance. 

Beyond  the  castles,  the  Bosphorus  widens,  and  the  mountains 
of  Europe  and  Asia  appear  more  barren  and  deserted.  The  sea¬ 
shore  is,  however,  still  besprinkled  here  and  there  with  little 
white  houses  and  rustic  mosques,  each  of  the  latter  being  built  on 
rising  ground  near  a  fountain,  and  under  the  dome  of  a  plantain 
tree.  The  village  of  Therapia,  where  the  French  and  English 
ambassadors  reside,  is  at  a  little  distance  from  the  margin  of  the 
shore  :  the  high  forests  which  overhang  it,  throw  their  shadows 
over  the  terraces  aad  lawns  of  the  two  palaces  ;  and  some  little 
winding  valleys  among  the  rocks  form  the  limits  of  the  two  pow¬ 
ers.  Two  English  and  French  frigates,  lying  at  anchor  before 
each  of  the  palaces,  await  the  signal  of  the  ambassadors  to  convey 
to  the  fleets  in  the  Mediterranean  messages  of  war  or  of  peace. 
Buyukdere,  a  beautiful  town  at  the  extremity  of  the  gulf  formed 
by  the  Bosphorus,  where  it  turns  to  lose  itself  in  the  Black  Sea, 
extends  like  a  curtain  of  palaces  and  villas  along  the  sides  of  the 
two  sombre  mountains.  A  fine  quay  separates  the  gardens  and 
the  houses  from  the  sea.  The  Russian  fleet,  consisting  of  five 
ships  of  the  line,  three  frigates,  and  two  steamers,  is  anchored  off 
the  terraces  of  the  palace  of  the  Russian  embassy,  and  looks  like 
a  town  floating  on  the  water.  Boats  transmitting  orders  from  one 
ship  to  another ;  various  small  craft  conveying  water  from  the 
fountains,  or  carrying  invalids  ashore  ;  the  yachts  of  the  young 
officers  sailing  past  each  other  with  speed  of  race  horses;  or  the 


228 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


firing  of  guns  resounding  in  tile  deep  valleys  of  Asia,  and  announ¬ 
cing  the  entrance  of  ships  from  the  Black  Sea  ;  a  Russian  camp 
pitched  on  the  burning  sides  of  the  Giant’s  Mountains,  facing  the 
fleet ;  the  beautiful  plain  of  Buyukdere  on  the  left,  with  its  group 
of  wonderful  plane  trees,  one  of  which  would  shade  a  whole  regi¬ 
ment  ;  the  magnificent  forests  of  the  palaces  of  the  Russian  and 
Austrian  embassies,  which  fringe  the  brows  of  the  hills ;  the 
elegant  balconied  houses  which  border  the  quays,  with  festoons  of 
flowers  overhanging  their  terraces  ;  Armenians,  with  their  chil¬ 
dren,  rowing  to  and  fro  in  their  caiques  filled  with  foliage  and 
flowers ;  the  dark  and  narrow  arm  of  the  Bosphorus,  which  one 
just  gains  a  glimpse  of,  extending  towards  the  misty  horizon  of 
the  Black  Sea ;  other  chains  of  mountains,  without  any  trace  of 
villages  or  houses,  towering  to  the  clouds,  with  their  black  forests, 
like  redoubtable  boundaries  between  the  storms  of  the  ocean  of 
tempests  and  the  magnificent  serenity  of  the  seas  of  Constanti¬ 
nople  ;  two  fortified  castles,  facing  one  another,  on  each  shore, 
crowning  with  their  batteries,  their  towers,  and  their  cranies,  the 
projecting  heights  of  two  gloomy  capes  ;  and,  finally,  a  double 
line  of  rocks,  bespotted  with  forests,  which  are  gradually  lost  in 
the  blue  waters  of  the  Black  Sea  : — such  is  Buyukdere.  Add  to 
this,  the  perpetua-l  movement  of  a  file  of  vessels,  coming  to  Con¬ 
stantinople  or  leaving  the  canal,  according  as  the  wind  blows 
north  or  south.  These  vessels  are  sometimes  so  numerous,  that 
one  day  when  returning  home  in  my  caique,  I  counted  nearly  two 
hundred  in  less  than  an  hour.  They  sail  in  groups,  like  birds 
migrating  from  one  climate  to  another.  If  the  wind  varies,  they 
tack  about,  standing  out  alternately  under  the  houses  or  the  trees 
of  Asia  or  Europe  :  if  a  breeze  freshens,  they  anchor  in  one  of  the 
numberless  bays,  or  at  the  point  of  one  of  the  little  capes  of  the 
Bosphorus  ;  and  a  moment  after,  they  appear  with  all  their  sails 
set.  The  scene,  animated  by  these  groups  of  vessels  sailing  or 
lying  at  anchor,  and  by  the  various  positions  which  they  take 
the  shores,  every  moment  presents  a  new  aspect,  and  renders  the 
Bosphorus  a  wonderul  kaleidoscope. 

On  my  arrival  at  Buyukdere,  I  took  possession  of  the  charm¬ 
ing  house  on  the  quay,  which  M.  Turqui  had  so  hospitably  offered 
to  me.  We  shall  pass  the  summer  here. 

Same  date. 

On  viewing  the  coast  of  the  Bosphorus  which  I  have  just  de¬ 
scribed,  one  might  readily  believe  that  nature  has  here  created  a 
work  which  could  never  be  surpassed ;  and  that  there  cannot  be 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


229 


found  in  all  the  world  another  landscape  superior  to  the  one 
which  now  enchants  my  sight.  I  have  returned  this  evening  to 
Constantinople,  after  coasting  along  the  Asiatic  shore,  which  I 
find  a  thousand  times  more  beautiful  than  the  European  coast. 
The  shore  of  Asia  owes  nothing  to  man  ;  there  nature  has  done  all. 
No  Buyukdere,  no  Therapia,  no  ambassadors’  palaces,  no  towns 
of  Armenians  or  Franks  are  to  be  seen.  The  prospect  consists 
of  mountains,  separated  by  defiles  ;  small  verdant  valleys  formed 
among  the  foundations  of  the  rocks,  winding  rivers,  and  torrents 

!  whitening  with  their  foam  the  forests  which  overhang  the  sides 
of  the  rocks,  penetrate  into  the  ravines,  and  descend  even  to  the 
margins  of  the  numerous  gulfs  on  the  coast.  The  whole  land¬ 
scape  presents  such  variety  in  form  and  color,  foliage  and  ver¬ 
dure,  as  the  fancy  of  no  painter  could  invent.  A  few  detached 
houses  belonging  to  Turkish  sailors  or  gardeners  are  sprinkled 
here  and  there  along  the  shore,  on  the  platforms  of  the  woody 
hill,  or  grouped  on  the  points  of  the  rocks,  against  which  the 
current  breaks  into  blue  waves,  in  color  like  the  night-sky. 
The  white  sails  of  a  few  fishing-boats  in  the  creeks  are  seen 
now  and  then  gliding  between  the  plantain  trees.  Innumerable 
flocks  of  white  birds  perch  on  the  margin  of  the  meadows,  and 
eagles  from  the  summits  of  the  mountains  hover  over  the  sea. 
Some  of  the  little  bays  or  creeks  are  completely  closed  up  by 
rocks  and  the  trunks  of  huge  trees,  whose  boughs,  covered  with 
black  foliage,  overhang  the  waves,  and  amidst  which  the  caiques 
lie  hid  as  it  were  in  cradles.  In  the  shade  of  these  bays  are  dis¬ 
cerned  one  or  two  villages,  with  gardens  behind  the  houses  on 
verdant  declivities,  and  with  groups  of  trees  at  the  foot  of  the 
rocks.  The  villagers  have  their  barks  rocking  on  the  waves 
before  their  doors,  and  their  dovecots  are  on  the  roofs  of  their 
houses.  The  women  and  children  are  at  the  windows,  while  the 
old  men  sit  under  the  plantain  trees  at  the  foot  ol  the  minaret. 

The  laborers  are  seen  quitting  the  fields  to  return  to  their 
caiques,  or  are  engaged  in  loading  their  barks  with  green  fagots 
—with  myrtle  and  broom  still  in  flower,  which  they  dry  and  burn 
in  the  winter.  This  mass  of  floating  verdure,  hanging  over  the 
sides  of  the  boats  even  into  the  water,  completely  conceals  both 
the  bark  and  the  rower,  and  looks  like  a  portion  of  the  shore 
loosened  by  the  current,  and  boine  along  by  the  sea,  with  its 
foliage  still  green,  and  with  its  flowers  still  redolent  of  perfume. 

Such  is  the  aspect  of  the  Asiatic  coast  as  far  as  the  castle  of 
Mahomet  II.,  which  seems  to  close  the  Bosphorus,  giving  it  the 


YOL.  II. 


11 


230 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


appearance  of  a  Swiss  lake.  Here  the  character  of  the  coast 
begins  to  change.  The  summits  of  the  hills  are  less  sharp,  and 
they  descend  less  precipitately  into  the  small  valleys.  Asiatic 
villages,  richer  and  more  numerous,  arise.  The  fresh  streams 
of  Asia,  and  lovely  plains  shaded  by  trees,  and  studded  with 
kiosks  and  Moorish  fountains,  open  to  the  view.  Numbers  of 
Constantinople  carriages,  which  are  a  sort  of  gilt  wooden  cages, 
placed  upon  four  wheels  and  drawn  by  a  couple  of  oxen,  are  dis¬ 
persed  over  the  greensward.  From  these  the  veiled  Turkish 
females  may  be  seen  to  alight,  and  seat  themselves  at  the  foot 
of  a  tree,  or  on  the  ground  near  the  water  :  at  some  distance  from 
them  the  men  are  sitting  in  groups,  drinking  coffee,  or  smoking 
their  pipes.  The  various-colored  clothes  of  the  men  and  the 
children,  joined  to  the  monotonous  brown  tint  of  the  women’s 
veils,  forms  a  most  singular  and  beautiful  mosaic  scene.  Oxen 
and  buffaloes  graze  in  the  meadows.  Arabian  horses,  covered 
with  caparisons  of  velvet,  silk,  and  gold,  are  prancing  near  the 
caiques,  which  row  in  crowds  to  the  shore,  filled  with  Armenian 
and  Jewish  women.  The  latter,  after  landing,  sit  down  unveiled 
on  the  grass  by  the  side  of  some  of  the  streams,  forming  a  long 
chain  of  women  and  girls  in  different  costumes  and  attitudes. 
Some  of  them  possess  the  most  exquisite  beauty,  which  their 
variety  of  dress  serves  to  heighten.  I  have  often  seen  here 
many  Turkish  women  of  the  harems  unveiled.  They  are  al¬ 
most  universally  of  small  stature  and  pale  complexion,  with  a 
mournful  expression  in  the  eye,  and  a  feeble  and  sickly  appear¬ 
ance.  In  general,  the  climate  of  Constantinople,  in  spite  of  all 
its  apparent  salubrity,  is  unhealthy.  The  women,  at  all  events, 
are  very  far  from  deserving  their  reputation  for  beauty.  The 
Jewish  and  Armenian  females  were  die  only  ones  whom  I  thought 
handsome ;  and  yet  how  far  were  the&e  inferior  in  beauty  to  the 
Jewesses  and  the  Armenian  women  of  Arabia,  and  how  little 
they  possessed  of  the  indescribable  charms  which  characterize 
the  Greek  women  of  Syria  and  Asia  Minor. 

A  little  further  on,  close  to  the  waves  of  the  Bosphorus,  rises 
the  magnificent  new  palace,  at  present  inhabited  by  the  grand 
signior.  Beglierbeg  is  an  edifice  in  the  Italian  taste  but  bearing 
the  impression  of  Indian  and  Moorish  recollections  :  it  is  an  im¬ 
mense  building,  with  wings  inclosing  gardens.  Behind  are  large 
plots  of  ground,  full  of  roses  and  watered  by  fountains.  A  nar¬ 
row  quay,  formed  of  granite,  separates  the  windows  from  the  sea. 
As  I  slowly  passed  this  palace,  the  abode  of  so  much  misery  and 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


231 


terrors,  I  perceived  the  grand  signior  sitting  on  a  divan  in  one  of 
the  kiosks  at  the  water-side.  Achmet  Pacha,  one  of  his  young 
favorites,  was  standing  near  him.  The  sultan,  attracted  by  the 
appearance  of  our  European  costume,  directed  Achmet  Pacha’s 
attention  to  us  with  his  finger,  and  seemed  to  be  inquiring  who 
we  were.  I  saluted  the  master  of  Asia  after  the  Oriental  manner, 
and  he  graciously  returned  my  salutation.  All  the  blinds  of  the 
palace  were  open,  and  the  rich  decorations  of  this  magnificent 
habitation  were  seen  glittering  within.  The  wing  inhabited  by 
the  women,  or  the  harem,  was  closed.  This  part  of  the  building 
is  immense,  and  the  number  of  women  it  contains  is  not  known. 
Two  caiques,  completely  covered  with  gilding,  and  furnished 
with  twenty-four  rowers  each,  were  lying  afloat  at  the  palace 
gate.  These  caiques  would  not  disgrace  the  most  exquisite 
European  taste  as  to  elegance  of  form,  while,  at  the  same  time, 
they  display  the  utmost  degree  of .  Eastern  magnificence.  The 
prow  of  one  of  them,  which  projected  at  least  twenty-five  feet, 
was  surrounded  by  the  figure  of  a  golden  swan  with  extended 
wings,  which  seemed  to  bear  the  vessel  over  the  waves.  A  silk 
awning,  drawn  over  golden  pillars,  covered  the  poop,  and  rich 
cashmere  shawls  formed  the  sultan’s  seat.  The  prow  of  the 
other  caique  was  a  feathered  arrow  of  gold,  as  if  just  darting 
from  its  bow  and  flying  across  the  sea.  When  out  of  sight  of 
the  sultan,  I  lingered  for  a  considerable  time  to  admire  the  palace 
and  the  gardens.  All  bear  marks  of  the  most  perfect  taste.  I 
know  of  no  royal  residence  in  Europe  which  presents  such  a 
magnificent  and  fairy-like  effect.  The  whole  seems  as  pure  and 
resplendent  as  if  it  had  just  received  its  finishing  touch  from  the 
hand  of  the  artist.  The  roofs  of  the  palace  are  masked  by  gilt 
balustrades ;  and  the  chimneys,  which  disfigure  most  of  our 
public  edifices  in  Europe,  here  consisted  of  fluted  gilt  columns, 
whose  elegant  capitals  conferred  an  additional  ornament  on  the 
edifice. 

1  admire  Mahmoud,  the  prince  who  passed  his  boyhood  in  the 
gloomy  prisons  of  the  Seraglio,  with  the  terrors  of  death  daily  be¬ 
fore  his  eyes  ; — who  was  tutored  by  the  wise  and  unfortunate 
Selim,  and  raised  to  the  throne  by  the  death  of  his  brother  ; — who 
silently  meditated  for  fifteen  years  the  emancipation  of  the  em¬ 
pire,  the  restoration  of  Islamism,  and  the  destruction  of  the  Janis¬ 
saries.  He  executed  this  project  with  the  heroism  and  calmness 
of  fatality",  continually  braving  Ids  subjects  to  regenerate  them. 
He  has  shown  himself  brave  and  dauntless  in  peril,  and  mild  and 


232 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


merciful  when  he  could  consult  the  feelings  of  his  heart.  Mah¬ 
moud  has  not  been  adequately  supported  by  those  about  him  ; 
and  he  has  wanted  instruments  to  execute  the  good  he  contem¬ 
plated.  He  has  been  disavowed  by  his  people ;  betrayed  by  his 
pachas  ;  ruined  by  his  neighbors  ;  abandoned  by  fortune — with¬ 
out  whose  aid  man  can  do  nothing — himself  assisting  in  the  over¬ 
throw  of  his  throne  and  his  power ; — and,  finally,  wasting  in  the 
voluptuous  pleasures  of  the  Bosphorus  his  remnant  of  existence 
and  his  shadow  of  sovereignty.  The  sultan  is  a  man  of  good 
and  upright  intention,  but  of  insufficient  genius  and  too  feeble  re¬ 
solution.  Like  the  last  of  the  Greek  emperors,  whose  place  he 
fills  and  whose  destiny  he  seems  to  represent,  he  is  worthy  of 
other  subjects  and  a  better  age,  and  is  capable  of  dying  a  hero. 
History  presents  no  event  comparable  to  the  destruction  of  the 
Janissaries.  I  know  of  no  other  revolution  so  ably  planned  or  so 
heroically  accomplished.  Mahmoud  will  engross  that  page  of 
history  ;  but  why  is  it  the  only  one  ?  The  greatest  difficulty  was 
surmounted — the  tyrants  were  overthrown,  and  it  required  only 
resolution  and  perseverance  to  reanimate  and  civilize  the  empire. 
Mahmoud  stopped  short  in  his  task.  Was  it  because  genius  is 
more  rare  than  heroism  ? 

From  the  palac'e  of  Beglierbeg,  the  coast  of  Asia  again  be¬ 
comes  woody  and  solitary,  till  you  reach  Scutari,  which  blooms 
like  a  garden  of  roses,  on  the  extremity  of  a  cape  at  the  entrance 
of  the  sea  of  Marmora.  Opposite  appears  the  verdant  point  of  the 
Seraglio;  and  between  the  coast  of  Europe,  crowned  wdth  its 
three  painted  cities,  and  the  coast  of  Asia,  glittering  with  cupolas 
and  minarets,  opens  the  vast  port  of  Constantinople,  where  the 
vessels,  riding  at  anchor  along  the  two  shores,  leave  a  broad  ave- 
-  nue  for  the  caiques.  I  now  glide  through  this  labyrinth  of  vessels, 
as  the  Venetian  gondolas  float  under  the  shadow  of  the  palaces, 
and  I  land  at  the  Death  Quay,  beneath  an  alley  of  cypresses. 

May  20. 

This  morning  I  was  taken  by  a  young  gentleman  of  Constan¬ 
tinople  to  the  slave-market. 

After  traversing  the  long  streets  ofStamboul  parallel  with  the 
walls  of  the  old  Seraglio,  and  passing  several  splendid  bazaars 
crowded  with  merchants  and  purchasers,  we  ascended  by  a  few 
narrow  streets  into  a  dirty  square,  on  which  opened  the  gate  of 
another  bazaar.  We  were  indebted  to  the  Turkish  costume,  in 
which  we  were  dressed,  and  to  the  perfection  in  which  my  guide 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


288 


spoke  the  language,  for  our  admittance  to  this  market  of  human 
flesh.  How  many  ages  elapsed,  and  how  many  appeals  were 
made  to  the  reason  of  man,  before  he  ceased  to  regard  power  as  a 
right,  and  could  be  convinced  that  slavery  is  a  crime  and  a 
blasphemy  !  What  an  advancement  of  intelligence  !  and  how 
much  does  it  promise  !  How  many  things  there  are  which  we 
regard  with  indifference,  but  which  may  appear  enormous  crimes 
in  the  eyes  of  our  descendants  !  These  were  the  reflections 
which  occurred  to  my  mind  as  we  entered  the  bazaar,  where  the 
life,  the  soul,  the  body,  and  the  liberty  of  human  beings  is  sold  as 
we  sell  oxen  or  horses,  and  where  a  man  considers  himself  the 
lawful  possessor  of  what  he  thus  purchases  !  Yet  there  are  many 
lawful  possessions  of  the  same  kind,  of  which  we  take  no  account ! 
And  after  all,  they  are  lawful ;  for  we  must  not  expect  of  man 
more  than  he  knows.  His  convictions  are  his  truths  ;  he  has  no 
others.  God  alone  possesses  them,  and  he  distributes  them  to  us 
in  proportion  to  our  progressive  intelligence. 

The  slave-market  is  a  vast  uncovered  court,  surrounded  by  a 
roofed  portico  or  piazza.  Under  this  portico,  which  on  the  side 
of  the  court  has  a  wall  about  waist-high,  there  are  doors  open¬ 
ing  into  the  chambers  in  which  the  merchants  keep  their  slaves. 
These  doors  are  thrown  open,  to  enable  the  purchasers,  as  they 
walk  about,  to  see  the  slaves.  The  men  and  women  are  kept 
in  separate  chambers  ;  and  the  women  are  unveiled.  Besides 
the  slaves  in  these  lower  chambers,  a  great  number  are  grouped 
in  a  gallery  under  the  portico,  and  in  the  court  itself.  We  com¬ 
menced  our  examination.  The  most  remarkable  group  consisted 
of  some  Abyssinian  girls,  about  twelve  or  fifteen  in  number. 
They  were  seated  close  together  in  a  circle,  and  their  faces  were 
all  turned  to  the  spectators.  Most  of  them  were  remarkably 
beautiful.  They  had  almond-shaped  eyes,  aquiline  noses,  thin  lips, 
a  delicate  oval  contour  of  face,  and  long  hair  as  dark  and  glossy 
as  the  raven’s  wing.  The  pensive,  melancholy,  and  languishing 
expression  of  their  countenances,  renders  the  Abyssinian  females, 
in  spite  of  their  copper-colored  complexions,  extremely  lovely  and 
interesting.  They  are  tall  and  slender  as  the  palm  trees  of  their 
country,  and  their  arms  are  remarkable  for  beauty  of  form  and 
grace  of  motion.  The  girls  whom  I  saw  in  the  slave-bazaar  had 
no  clothing  but  a  long  robe  of  coarse  yellow  cloth.  On  their 
ankles  they  wore  bracelets  of  blue  glass  beads.  They  were 
seated  motionless,  with  their  heads  resting  on  the  palms  of  their 
hands,  or  on  their  knees.  When  thus  gazed  at,  their  meek  and 


234 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


melancholy  eyes  were  like  those  of  the  goat  or  the  lamb  whom 
the  peasants  lead  with  strings  round  their  necks  to  be  sold  at  our 
village  fairs.  Sometimes  they  whispered  one  to  another  and 
smiled.  One  of  them,  who  held  a  little  child  in  her  arms,  was 
weeping  because  the  merchant  wanted  to  sell  it  separately  to  a 
dealer  in  children.  Not  far  from  this  group,  there  were  seven  or 
eight  little  negro  children,  from  eight  to  ten  years  of  age.  They 
were  tolerably  well  dressed,  and  appeared  very  healthy.  They 
were  amusing  themselves  at  an  Oriental  game,  which  is  played 
with  small  pebbles,  arranged  in  various  ways  in  holes  dug  in  the 
sand.  Meanwhile  the  merchants  and  buyers  took  first  one  and 
then  another  by  the  arm,  examined  them  narrowly  from  head  to 
foot,  patted  them,  made  them  show  their  teeth,  that  they  might 
judge  of  their  age  and  state  of  health  :  and  the  children,  when 
released,  eagerly  joined  their  playmates  and  renewed  the  game. 
I  next  went  under  the  covered  porticoes,  which  were  crowded  with 
slaves  and  purchasers.  The  Turks  engaged  in  this  traffic  were 
walking  about  among  the  groups  superbly  dressed  in  furred  pe¬ 
lisses  and  with  long  pipes  in  their  hands,  looking  anxious  and 
preoccupied,  and  casting  a  jealous  glance  at  every  stranger  who 
peeped  into  the  rooms  in  which  they  kept  their  human  mer¬ 
chandise  :  but  as  they  supposed  us  to  be  Arabs  or  Egyptians, 
they  did  not  venture  to  refuse  us  admittance  to  any  of  the  rooms. 
Itinerant  dealers  in  cakes  and  dried  fruits  were  walking  about 
the  gallery,  selling  refreshments  to  the  slaves.  I  slipped  a  few 
piastres  into  the  hand  of  one  of  them,  and  directed  him  to  dis¬ 
tribute  the  contents  of  his  basket  amons:  the  nesro  children,  who 
eagerly  devoured  them. 

I  remarked  a  poor  negress,  about  eighteen  or  twenty  years 
of  age,  remarkably  handsome,  but  with  a  sullen  and  melancholy 
air.  She  was  seated  on  a  bench  in  the  gallery,  richly  dressed 
and  with  her  face  unveiled.  Round  her  were  about  a  dozen 
other  negresses,  dressed  in  rags,  and  exposed  for  sale  at  very  low 
prices.  The  negress  above  mentioned  held  in  her  lap  a  fine  lit¬ 
tle  boy  of  three  or  four  years  of  age,  magnificently  dressed  ;  her 
child,  who  was  a  mulatto,  had  a  handsome  and  noble  countenance, 
a  beautiful  mouth,  and  the  finest  eyes  imaginable.  I  played  with 
the  boy,  and  gave  him  some  cakes  and  sweetmeats,  which  I  had 
purchased  at  a  neighboring  shop  ;  but  the  mother  snatched  them 
from  his  hands,  and  threw  them  on  the  ground,  with  an  expres¬ 
sion  of  anger  and  offended  pride.  She  held  down  her  face  and 
wept.  I  imagined  that  she  was  afraid  of  being  sold  separately 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


235 


from  her  child,  and  I  requested  M.  Morlach,  my  obliging  guide, 
to  purchase  her  together  with  the  child  for  me.  I  would  have 
brought  up  the  interesting  boy  without  separating  him  from  his 
mother.  We  addressed  ourselves  to  a  broker  with  whom  M. 
Morlach  was  acquainted.  The  broker  spoke  to  the  owner  of  the 
slave  and  her  child.  He  at  first  seemed  inclined  to  accept  our 
terms.  The  poor  woman  wept  bitterly,  and  the  boy  threw  his 
arms  round  the  mother’s  neck.  But  the  bargaining  was  all  a 
pretence  on  the  part  of  the  merchant,  and  when  we  agreed  to  give 
him  the  very  exorbitant  price  he  set  upon  the  slaves,  he  took  the 
broker  aside,  and  told  him  that  the  negress  was  not  for  sale.  He 
stated  that  she  was  the  slave  of  a  rich  Turk  who  was  the  father 
of  the  boy  ;  that  she  had  evinced  too  haughty  and  overbearing  a 
spirit  in  the  harem  ;  and  that  to  correct  and  humble  her,  her 
master  had  sent  her  to  the  bazaar,  under  pretence  of  intending  to 
get  rid  of  her,  but  with  secret  orders  that  she  should  not  be  sold. 
This  mode  of  correction  is  frequently  resorted  to ;  and  when  a 
Turk  is  out  of  humor  with  his  female  slaves,  his  usual  threat  is 
that  he  will  send  them  to  the  bazaar.  We  accordingly  with¬ 
drew. 

We  looked  into  a  great  number  of  rooms,  each  containing 
four  or  five  women,  almost  all  black  and  ugly,  but  having  the  ap¬ 
pearance  of  good  health.  Most  of  them  appeared  indifferent  to 
their  situation,  and  some  even  solicited  purchasers.  They  talked 
and  laughed  together,  and  occasionally  made  critical  remarks  on 
the  men  who  were  bargaining  for  them.  One  or  two  wept,  and 
concealed  themselves  at  the  further  end  of  the  chamber,  and  did 
not  without  reluctance  return  to  the  alcove  where  they  had  been 
seated  when  we  looked  in.  Several  walked  away  cheerfully 
with  a  Turk  who  had  purchased  them,  taking  with  them  their  lit¬ 
tle  bundle  tied  in  a  handkerchief,  and  covering  their  faces  with 
their  white  veils.  We  witnessed  two  or  three  acts  of  genuine 
humanity,  for  which  even  Christian  charity  might  envy  the  good 
Mussulmans.  Several  Turks  purchased  some  old  female  slaves 
who  had  been  sent  away  from  the  harems  of  their  masters  on  ac¬ 
count  of  their  age  and  infirmities.  We  asked  them  why  they 
had  purchased  the  poor  old  women.  “  To  please  God,”  replied 
the  broker:  and  M.  Morlach  assured  me  that  several  Mussulmans 
were  in  the  practice  of  sending  to  the  markets  to  buy  poor  infirm 
slaves  of  both  sexes,  and  support  them,  for  the  sake  of  charity,  in 
their  houses. 

The  last  rooms  we  entered  were  half  closed,  and  we  were  at 


236 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LANB. 


first  refused  admittance.  There  was  only  one  slave  in  each 
room,  under  the  guard  of  a  female.  These  slaves  were  young 
and  beautiful  Circassian  girls,  newly  arrived  from  their  country. 
They  were  dressed  in  white,  and  with  a  remarkable  degree  of 
elegance.  Their  fine  features  were  expressive  of  neither  sorrow 
nor  indignation,  but  disdainful  indifference.  The  beautiful  white 
slaves  of  Georgia  or  Circassia  have  become  extremely  rare  since 
the  Greek  females  no  longer  people  the  seraglios,  and  since  Rus¬ 
sia  has  interdicted  the  traffic  in  women.  Nevertheless,  many 
Georgian  families  still  devote  their  daughters  to  this  odious  traffic, 
and  cargoes  of  them  are  from  time  to  time  carried  away  by  con¬ 
traband  dealers.  The  price  of  these  beautiful  creatures  varies 
from  twelve  to  twenty  thousand  piastres  (from  three  to  five  thou¬ 
sand  francs),  whilst  black  slaves  of  ordinary  beauty  do  not  sell 
for  more  than  five  or  six  hundred  francs,  and  the  most  beautiful 
at  a  thousand  or  twelve  hundred.  In  Arabia  and  in  Syria,  fe¬ 
male  slaves  may  be  purchased  for  five  or  six  hundred  piastres 
(from  a  hundred  and  fifty  to  two  hundred  francs).  One  of  the 
Georgian  girls  whom  we  saw  at  the  bazaar  was  of  faultless  beau¬ 
ty.  Her  features  were  delicate  and  intelligent,  her  eyes  soft  and 
pensive,  and  her  skin  dazzlingly  white.  She  was  sold  before  our 
eyes  for  the  harem  of  a  young  pacha  of  Constantinople.  But  the 
females  of  Georgia  and  Circassia  are  in  general  far  from  possess¬ 
ing  the  charms  of  the  Arabian  women, — their  beauty  is  touched 
by  the  coldness  of  the  North. 

We  left  the  bazaar  with  feelings  of  disgust  at  a  scene  which 
is  renewed  every  day  and  every  hour  in  the  cities  of  the  East. 
This  is  the  effect  of  unchangeable  laws  !  They  consecrate  the 
barbarities  of  past  ages,  and  confer  the  privilege  of  antiquity  and 
legitimacy  on  all  crimes.  The  fanatical  worshipers  of  the  past 
are  as  culpable  and  as  dangerous  as  the  fanatical  anticipaters  of 
the  future.  The  former  sacrifice  mankind  to  their  ignorance  and 
their  recollections,  and  the  latter  to  their  hopes  and  their  precipi¬ 
tation.  If  men  were  to  act  and  think  just  as  their  ancestors  have 
acted  and  thought  before  them,  human  nature  would  be  merely 
idolatry  and  slavery.  Reason  is  the  sun  of  the  human  mind  :  it 
is  the  infallible  and  perpetual  revelation  of  Divine  laws,  as  they 
are  applicable  to  society.  We  must  follow  it,  under  pain  of  re¬ 
maining  in  misery  and  darkness;  but  we  must  never  hurry  be¬ 
fore  it,  lest  we  should  fall  down  precipices.  To  understand  the 
past  without  regretting  it, — to  tolerate  the  present  whilst  striving 
to  improve  it — and  to  hope  for  the  future  whilst  preparing  for  it 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


237 


— these  are  the  laws  of  wise  men  and  benevolent  institutions 
The  sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost  is  the  conflict  of  certain  men 
against  the  improvement  of  things — the  egotistical  and  stupid  ef¬ 
fort  to  draw  back  the  moral  and  social  world  which  God  and  Na¬ 
ture  are  urging  forward.  Past  time  is  the  sepulchre  of  genera¬ 
tions  that  are  gone  ;  we  should  respect  it,  but  we  should  not  wish 
to  bury  ourselves  and  live  in  it. 

The  great  bazaars  for  merchandise  of  various  kinds,  and  spice- 
ries  in  particular,  are  spacious  arched  galleries,  with  footpaths  on 
each  side,  and  shops  filled  with  wares.  These  wares  consist  of 
arms,  saddles,  and  harnesses ;  jewelry,  provisions,  morocco  boots 
and  shoes,  Indian  and  Persian  shawls ;  various  European  stuffs  ; 
the  carpets  of  Damascus  and  Caramania  ;  the  essences  and  per¬ 
fumes  of 'Constantinople  ;  narghiles  and  pipes  of  every  form  and 
every  degree  of  splendor  ;  carved  amber  and  coral,  used  by  the 
Orientals  in  smoking  the  toumbach  ;  tobacco  chopped  or  folded  like 
quires  of  yellow  paper  ;  pastry,  under  a  variety  of  enticing  forms  ; 
confectionery,  with  an  endless  variety  of  sweetmeats  and  preserved 
fruits;  drugs,  exhaling  perfumes,  which  pervade  all  the  bazaars; 
Arabian  mantles  woven  of  gold  and  goat-hair,  and  women’s  veils 
spangled  with  gold  and  silver. 

The  bazaars  are  filled  by  a  continually  renewed  crowd,  con¬ 
sisting  of  Turks  on  foot  with  pipes  in  their  mouths  or  in  their 
hands,  and  followed  by  slaves  ;  veiled  women,  accompanied  by 
negresses  and  beautiful  children  ;  pachas  on  horseback,  slowly 
pacing  amidst  the  silent  throng;  and  Turkish  carriages,  formed 
of  gilt  trellis- work,  and  driven  at  a  walking  pace  by  coachmen 
with  long  white  beards.  These  carriages  are  filled  with  women, 
who  from  time  to  time  alight  to  make  purchases  at  the  jewelers’ 
shops.  Some  of  the  bazaars  would  be  several  leagues  in  length, 
if  they  consisted  of  a  single  gallery.  They  are  always  much 
crowded,  and  are  the  most  active  vehicles  of  contagion,  for  the 
Jews  expose  and  sell  in  the  bazaars  the  clothes  of  persons  who 
have  died  of  the  plague.  That  disease  has  just  broken  out  at 
Pera,  and  five  or  six  people  have  died  of  it.  We  therefore  passed, 
not  without  some  apprehension,  through  the  bazaar.  The  crowd 
that  thronged  it  to-day  may  be  decimated  to-morrow. 

June  18. 

We  have  passed  several  days  in  study  and  reading  in  our 
solitude  at  Buyukdere,  with  the  Bosphorus  and  the  Black  Sea 
beneath  our  eyes.  In  the  evenings  we  have  had  excursions  in 
VOL.  ii.  11* 


238 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


caiques  to  Constantinople,  to  Bellegrade  and  its  incomparable 
forest,  to  the  coast  of  Asia,  to  the  mouth  of  the  Euxine,  and  to 
the  Valley  cf  Roses,  situated  behind  the  mountains  of  Buyukdere. 

I  go  there  very  often.  The  delicious  valley  is  watered  by  a  spring, 
to  which  the  Turks  resort,  to  enjoy  the  freshness,  the  odor  of  the 
roses,  and  the  song  of  the  bulbul.  Five  immense  trees  overhang 
this  fountain ;  and  a  sort  of  coffee-house  is  held  under  their  foli¬ 
age.  Further  on,  the  valley  narrows,  and  leads  to  an  acclivity 
of  the  mountain  where  two  little  artificial  lakes,  fed  by  the  water 
from  a  spring,  slumber  tranquilly  under  the  spreading  tops  of  the 
plantain  trees.  The  Armenians,  with  their  families,  assemble  in 
the  evenings  on  the  margins  of  these  lakes,  and  take  their  supper. 
Picturesque  groups  are  seated  round  the  trees,  and  young  girls 
are  dancing  together  :  these  are  the  tranquil  and  decorous  pleas¬ 
ures  of  the  Orientals.  They  feel  and  enjoy  nature  better  than  we 
do.  Nowhere  have  trees  and  springs  more  sincere  admirers. 
There  is  a  deep  sympathy  in  their  minds  with  the  beauties  of  sea, 
earth,  and  sky.  When  I  return  in  the  evenings  from  Constanti¬ 
nople  in  my  caique,  rowing  along  the  European  coast  on  a  clear 
moonlight  night,  I  see  for  the  space  of  a  league,  groups  of  women, 
young  girls,  and  children,  seated  on  the  edge  of  the  granite  quay, 
or  on  the  parapets  or  the  terraces  of  the  gardens  : — they  pass 
whole  hours  in  gazing  at  the  sea,  the  woods,  the  moon,  and  inhal¬ 
ing  the  fresh  evening  breeze.  The  inhabitants  of  our  regions 
know  nothing  of  these  natural  enjoyments.  Their  sensations  are 
blunted.  They  require  the  excitement  of  artificial  pleasures,  and 
even  vices.  The  few  among  them  by  whom  nature  is  still  under¬ 
stood  and  adored  are  visionaries  and  poets.  They  hear  the  voice 
of  God  in  his  works,  and  are  satisfied  with  nature,  and  silent  con¬ 
templation. 

At  Buyukdere  and  at  Therapia  I  have  met  several  persons  of 
my  acquaintance  amongst  the  Russians,  and  the  members  of  the 
foreign  embassies.  Count  Orloff,  M.  Boutenieff  (the  ambassador 
from  Russia  to  Constantinople,  a  man  of  superior  acquirements, 
at  once  a  philosopher  and  a  statesman),  and  Baron  Sturmer,  the 
Austrian  internuncio, — all  show  the  most  marked  attentions.  I 
hear  nothing  discussed  but  European  politics.  This  country  is 
now  the  important  point. 

The  Russians  are  camped  in  Asia,  and  riding  at  anchor  under 
our  windows.  Will  they  retire?  I  do  not  doubt  but  they  will. 
We  are  never  in  a  hurry  to  seize  a  prey  which  we  know  cannot 
escape.  Count  Orloff  read  to  me  yesterday  an  admirable  letter 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


239 


written  to  him  by  the  Emperor  Nicholas.  It  was  to  the  follow¬ 
ing  effect : — 

“My  dear  Orloff, — When  providence  has  placed  a  man  at 
the  head  of  forty  millions  of  his  fellow-creatures,  he  is  expected  to 
present  to  the  world  a  bright  example  of  honor  and  fidelity  to  his 
word, — I  am  that  man.  I  will  be  worthy  of  the  mission  I  have 
received  from  God.  As  soon  as  the  difficulties  are  smoothed  be¬ 
tween  Ibrahim  and  the  Grand  Signior,  do  not  wait  another  day  ; 
bring  back  my  fleet  and  my  army.” 

This  is  noble  language, — a  situation  well  understood, — digni¬ 
fied  generosity  !  Constantinople  will  not  fly  away,  and  necessity 
will  bring  back  the  Russians,  whom  political  integrity  now  re¬ 
moves  for  a  time. 

June  20th. 

I  have  become  acquainted  here  with  a  most  agreeable  and 
clever  man — one  of  those  men  who  are  superior  to  their  ill  for¬ 
tune,  and  who  contrive  to  swim  into  port  by  aid  of  the  current 
which  threatens  to  sink  them.  The  person  I  allude  to  is  M.  Ca- 
losso,  a  Piedmontese  officer.  Like  many  of  his  countrymen,  he 
was  compromised  in  the  Piedmontese  revolution  of  1820  ;  like 
many  others,  he  was  proscribed  ;  and  without  a  home,  without 
friends,  he  sought  an  asylum  in  Turkey.  He  presented  himself 
to  the  sultan,  and  offered  to  organize  his  cavalry  :  he  became 
Mahmoud’s  favorite  and  military  adviser.  He  has,  however,  had 
the  good  sense  to  moderate  the  favor,  which  might  have  exposed 
him  to  dangerous  envy.  His  mode  and  cordiality  of  manner  have 
pleased  the  pachas  of  the  court  and  the  ministers  of  the  divan. 
He  has  made  friends  every  where,  and  he  preserves  them  by  the 
same  merits  which  enabled  him  to  gain  them.  The  sultan  has 
raised  him  in  rank,  without  requiring  him  to  abjure  his  nationali¬ 
ty  or  his  religion.  Among  the  Turks  he  is  now  Rustem  Bey, 
and  among  the  Christians  he  is  an  obliging  and  amiable  Frank. 
He  sought  my  acquaintance  here,  and  offered  to  render  me  any 
service  which  his  familiarity  at  the  divan  and  at  the  Seraglio 
would  enable  him  to  procure  for  me.  He  has  access  every 
where,  and  is  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  some  of  the  principal 
officers  of  the  court.  He  offered  me  facilities  for  seeing  places 
to  which  no  Christian  traveler,  not  even  the  ambassadors,  are 
ever  admitted.  I  am  to  make  a  visit  to  the  Seraglio,  to  which  no 
Christian  since  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague  has  been  suffered 
to  enter.  To-morrow  we  are  to  explore  together  that  mysterious 


240 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


palace,  to  which  M.  Calosso  is  himself  a  stranger,  though  he  is 
acquainted  with  all  the  sultan’s  principal  officers. 

We  first  went  to  pay  a  visit  to  Namuk  Pacha,  one  of  the 
young  favorites  of  the  Grand  Signior,  who  had  invited  me  to 
breakfast  at  his  barracks  at  Scutari,  and  who  had  lent  me  his 
horses  when  I  visited  the  mountains  of  Asia.  Namuk  Pacha  had, 
however,  been  summoned  to  do  duty  that  day  at  the  sultan’s  pa¬ 
lace  at  Beglierbeg  on  the  banks  of  the  Bosphorus.  Thither  we 
accordingly  proceeded.  Thanks  to  the  rank  and  high  favor  en¬ 
joyed  by  Rustem  Bey,  we  were  permitted  to  pass  the  gates,  and 
to  examine  the  grounds  surrounding  the  palace.  The  sultan  was 
going  to  visit  the  little  mosque  of  an  European  village  on  the 
other  shore  of  the  Bosphorus,  opposite  Beglierbeg.  His  superb 
caiques  were  moored  along  the  quay  which  bordered  the  palace, 
and  his  Arabian  horses  were  standing  in  the  court-yard,  held  by 
sais,  as  the  sultan  and  his  suite  were  to  mount  them  to  ride  through 
the  gardens.  We  entered  a  wing  of  the  palace  which  was  de¬ 
tached  from  the  principal  building,  and  in  which  were  assembled 
the  pachas,  the  officers  on  duty,  and  the  staff  of  the  palace.  We 
passed  through  several  spacious  apartments,  in  which  we  saw  a 
number  of  officers,  civil  and  military,  and  slaves  All  was  bustle 
and  movement,  like  a  ministerial  office,  or  a  palace  in  Europe  on 
a  day  of  ceremony.  The  interior  of  this  palace  was  not  splendid¬ 
ly  furnished  ;  divans  and  carpets,  walls  painted  in  fresco,  and 
crystal  lustres,  were  its  only  decorations.  The  Oriental  costume, 
the  turban,  the  pelisse,  the  loose  pantaloons,  the  girdle,  the  gold 
caftan,  which  the  Turks  have  abandoned  for  a  miserable  Euro¬ 
pean  dress,  ill  cut  and  ridiculously  worn,  has  changed  the  grave 
and  solemn  aspect  of  the  people  into  a  poor  parody  of  the  Franks. 
The  diamond  star  glittering  on  the  breasts  of  the  pachas  and  vi¬ 
ziers,  is  the  only  ornament  which  distinguishes  them,  and  which 
calls  to  mind  their  former  magnificence.  We  were  conducted 
through  several  crowded  apartments  into  a  little  room  looking  to 
one  of  the  exterior  gardens  of  the  Grand  Signior’s  palace.  There 
Namuk  Pacha  joined  us  ;  he  sat  down  with  us,  ordered  pipes  and 
sherbets  to  be  brought  in,  and  introduced  us  to  several  young  pa¬ 
chas,  who,  like  himself,  enjoy  the  sultan’s  favor.  Some  colonels 
of  the  Nisam,  or  regular  troops  of  the  guard,  came  to  join  us, 
and  took  part  in  our  conversation.  Namuk  Pacha,  who  had  re¬ 
cently  returned  from  his  embassy  to  St.  Petersburg,  speaks 
French  with  elegance  and  facility.  His  manners,  which  have 
been  formed  during  his  residence  in  Russia,  are  those  of  an  ele- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


241 


gant  European  diplomatist.  He  appears  to  me  to  be  a  shrewd 
and  intelligent  young  man.  Kalil  Pacha,  then  Capitan  Pacha, 
who  has  since  married  the  daughter  of  the  sultan,  likewise  speaks 
French  very  well.  Achmet  Pacha  is  another  young  Osmanli 
elegant ,  with  all  the  manners  of  a  European.  There  was,  indeed, 
nothing  in  this  palace  to  remind  one  of  an  Asiatic  court,  except 
the  black  slaves,  the  eunuchs,  the  grated  windows  of  the  harem, 
the  shady  groves  and  the  blue  waves  of  the  Bosphorus,  on  which 
our  eyes  fell  whenever  we  directed  them  towards  the  gardens. 
We  spoke  with  discretion,  but  at  the  same  time  with  freedom,  of 
the  negotiations  b3tween  Egypt,  Europe,  and  Turkey;  and  the 
progress  made,  and  to  be  made,  by  the  Turks  in  military  tactics, 
legislation,  and  the  policy  of  the  different  powers  of  Europe. 
Nothing  in  our  conversation  could  have  denoted  that  we  were 
discoursing  with  a  people  who  are  termed  barbarians,  about  the 
affairs  of  these  same  barbarians,  and  that  what  we  said  might 
even  have  reached  the  ear  of  the  Grand  Signior,  the  Shadow  of 
Allah. 

Our  conversation  could  not  have  been  more  unrestrained,  or 
more  elegantly  kept  up,  in  a  drawing-room  in  London  or  Vienna. 
These  young  men,  who  were  eager  for  information  and  improve¬ 
ment,  spoke  of  their  situation,  and  of  themselves,  in  a  tone  of 
noble  and  interesting  modesty.  The  hour  of  prayer  was  approach¬ 
ing,  and  we  took  leave  of  our  hosts,  deferring  till  another  oppor¬ 
tunity  our  request  to  be  presented  to  the  sultan.  Namuk  Pacha 
consigned  us  to  the  guidance  of  a  colonel  of  the  Imperial  Guards, 
directing  him  to  conduct  us  into  the  outer  court  of  the  mosque, 
to  which  the  sultan  was  about  to  proceed. 

We  crossed  the  Bosphorus,  and  stationed  ourselves  on  the  steps 
leading  to  the  gate  of  the  little  mosque.  In  the  course  of  a  few 
minutes  we  heard  the  guns  of  the  fleet  and  the  fort,  which  every 
Friday  announce  to  the  capital  that  the  sultan  is  going  to  the 
mosque  ;  and  we  saw  the  two  imperial  caiques  leave  the  shore  of 
Asia,  and  dart  across  the  Bosphorus  like  arrows.  No  luxury  of 
horses  and  carriages  can  equal  the  Oriental  splendor  of  these 
gilded  caiques,  whose  prows  project,  like  golden  eagles,  twenty 
feet  in  advance  of  the  body  of  the  bark.  Twenty-four  rowers, 
whose  oars  rose  and  fell  simultaneously  like  the  flapping  of  two 
vast  wings,  raised  at  every  stroke  a  veil  of  foam  round  the  sides 
of  the  caique  ;  and  beneath  an  awning  of  silk,  gold,  and  feathers, 
the  Grand  Signior  was  seated  on  a  throne  of  cashmere,  with  his 
pachas  and  admirals  at  his  feet.  When  the  caique  reached  the 


242 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


shore,  the  sultan  jumped  out  lightly,  resting  his  two  hands  on  the 
shoulders  of  Achmet  and  Namuk  Pacha.  The  band  of  his  guard, 
ranged  opposite  to  where  we  stood,  played  a  flourish,  and  he  ad¬ 
vanced  rapidly  between  two  lines  of  officers  and  spectators. 

Sultan  Mahmoud  is  a  man  of  forty-five  years  of  age,  of  mid¬ 
dle  height,  and  elegant  and  dignified  figure.  His  eye  is  blue 
and  mild  in  its  expression,  his  complexion  is  dark  and  ruddy,  his 
mouth  handsome  and  intelligent,  and  his  beard,  which  is  as  black 
and  glossy  as  jet,  descends  in  thick  clusters  on  his  bosom.  This 
is  the  only  remnant  of  the  national  costume  which  he  preserves : 
in  all  other  respects,  the  hat  excepted,  he  might  be  taken  for  a 
European.  On  the  present  occasion  he  wore  pantaloons  and 
boots,  a  brown  frock-coat,  with  a  collar  ornamented  with  dia¬ 
monds,  and  on  his  head  a  small  red  woolen  cap,  surmounted  by 
a  tassel  of  precious  stones.  He  walked  at  an  unsteady  pace,  and 
looked  anxious  and  disturbed  ;  something  appeared  to  have  vexed 
him.  He  spoke  emphatically  and  with  an  air  of  agitation  to  the 
pachas  who  accompanied  him.  When  he  came  near  us,  as  he 
ascended  the  steps  leading  to  the  door  of  the  mosque,  he  slack¬ 
ened  his  pace,  looked  at  us  graciously,  and  slightly  bowed  his 
head.  He  then,  by  a  motion,  directed  Namuk  Pacha  to  take  a 
petition  from  the  -hand  of  a  veiled  Turkish  female,  and  entered 
the  mosque.  He  remained  in  it  only  twenty  minutes,  and  during 
that  interval  the  military  band  played  pieces  from  the  operas  of 
Mozart  and  Rossini.  The  sultan  came  from  the  mosque  with  a 
more  serene  and  composed  air.  He  saluted  the  spectators  on  his 
right  and  left,  and  having  walked  slowly  down  to  the  water’s 
edge,  he  jumped  smilingly  into  his  boat.  In  the  twinkling  of  an 
eye  we  saw  him  land  on  the  Asiatic  shore,  and  enter  the  gardens 
of  Beglierbeg.  It  is  impossible  not  to  be  pleased  with  the  coun¬ 
tenance  of  Mahmoud,  or  to  avoid  forming  wishes  for  the  welfare 
of  a  prince  whose  countenance  bespeaks  so  much  manly  energy 
and  profound  sensibility.  But,  alas  !  these  wishes  are  unavailing, 
when  we  think  of  the  fate  that  inevitably  awaits  him.  If  he  were 
a  truly  great  man,  he  would  change  his  destiny,  and  overcome 
the  fatality  that  attends  him.  There  is  still  time  for  this.  As 
long  as  a  nation  retains  any  remnant  of  existence,  there  is  in  the 
religion  and  the  nationality  of  its  people  a  principle  of  energy 
and  resurrection,  which  a  skillful  and  powerful  genius  may  regen¬ 
erate,  and  lead  to  a  glorious  transformation.  But  Mahmoud’s 
greatness  is  confined  to  his  courage.  He  would  fight  and  die 
intrepidly  ;  but  the  spring  of  his  resolution  relaxes  when  he  is 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND.  243 


required  to  exercise  the  duties  of  a  sovereign.  Whatever  may¬ 
be  his  fate,  history  will  pity  him  and  honor  his  memory.  He  has 
attempted  great  things.  He  saw  that  his  empire  must  perish,  if 
he  did  not  reform  it.  He  has  lopped  off  the  dead  branches  of  the 
tree,  but  he  cannot  infuse  sap  into  that  portion  of  the  trunk  that 
still  remains  standing.  Is  this  his  fault  ?  I  should  say  it  is. 
What  remained  to  be  accomplished  was  nothing  in  comparison  to 
the  destruction  of  the  Janissaries.  No  resistance  would  have  been 
offered  in  Turkey;  and  Europe  would  have  looked  on  timidly 
and  inertly.  A  fine  opportunity  has  been  suffered  to  escape. 
Years  have  elapsed,  and  the  adventurous  Ibrahim  has  converted 
to  his  own  advantage  the  unpopularity  of  the  sultan.  Russia  has 
been  accepted  as  a  protectress.  This  odious  protection  of  a  nat¬ 
ural  enemy  against  a  rebellious  slave  has  wounded  the  pride  of 
Islamism.  Mahmoud  has  now  scarcely  any  resource  but  his  own 
personal  courage.  Surrounded  as  he  is  by  his  courtiers  and  flat¬ 
terers,  an  insurrection  may  hurl  him  from  the  throne,  and  plunge 
the  empire  into  final  anarchy.  Turkey  depends  on  the  life  of 
Mahmoud.  The  empire  and  the  sultan  will  perish  on  one  and 
the  same  day  ;  and  in  the  tomb  of  Mahmoud  will  be  buried  two 
of  the  finest  portions  of  Europe  and  Asia! 

June  the  21st,  1833. 

At  eleven  o’clock  we  landed  at  the  quay  of  the  Old  Seraglio, 
and  entered  the  streets  by  which  it  is  surrounded.  In  the  way  I 
visited  the  Divan  of  the  Porte,  a  vast  palace,  in  which  the 
grand  vizier  resides,  and  in  which  affairs  of  state  are  discussed. 
There  is  nothing  remarkable  about  this  place,  except  the  recol¬ 
lection  of  the  scenes  which  have  passed  in  it :  but  the  edifice  it¬ 
self  bears  no  mark  of  the  sanguinary  dramas  of  which  it  has 
been  the  theatre.  This  building  is  a  large  palace  of  painted 
wood,  with  an  external  staircase,  covered  by  a  projecting  roof  cut 
into  festoons  in  the  Indian  or  Chinese  fashion.  The  floors  of  the 
rooms  are  covered  over  with  mats,  but  have  a  very  naked  look. 
From  this  place  we  went  down  to  the  spot  where  the  awful  gate 
of  the  Seraglio  has  so  often  opened  to  vomit  forth  the  bleeding 
heads  of  viziers  and  even  of  sultans.  We  passed  this  gate  with¬ 
out  interruption.  The  public  is  admitted  into  the  first  court  of 
the  Seraglio.  This  vast  court,  ornamented  by  groups  of  beauti¬ 
ful  trees,  descends  on  the  left  towards  the  Mint,  a  magnificent 
modern  building,  without  the  slightest  Oriental  character.  Here 
we  were  received  by  the  Armenian  directors  of  the  Mint,  who 


a 


244 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


opened  in  our  presence  the  caskets  containing  the  jewels,  ar¬ 
ranged  under  their  superintendence  for  the  Seraglio. 

One  might  have  fancied  that  it  had  rained  showers  of  pearls 
and  diamonds,  so  great  was  their  profusion.  Impoverishing  riches, 
by  which  an  empire  is  ruined  !  As  soon  as  a  state  becomes  civ¬ 
ilized,  these  ideal  representations  of  wealth  are  exchanged  for 
wealth  of  a  real  and  productive  kind, — agriculture  and  commerce. 

I  stayed  here  but  a  short  time :  and  we  next  entered  the  last 
court  of  the  Seraglio,  which  is  inaccessible  to  all  persons  but 
those  who  have  official  employments  about  the  palace,  and  to  the 
ambassadors  on  the  occasion  of  their  reception.  It  is  bounded 
by  the  wings  of  the  palace,  by  several  kiosks  each  separated 
from  the  other,  and  by  the  apartments  for  the  eunuchs,  the  guards, 
and  the  slaves.  The  playing  of  several  fountains  renders  the 
air  cool  and  refreshing,  while  shade  is  afforded  by  the  spreading 
foliage  of  the  trees.  Having  reached  the  last  gate,  the  soldiers 
on  guard  obstinately  refused  to  let  us  pass.  In  vain  did  Rustem 
Bey  make  himself  known  to  the  officer  on  duty.  In  reply  to  his 
applications,  the  latter  referred  to  his  instructions,  and  declared 
that  he  should  risk  his  head  by  allowing  me  to  enter.  We  con- 
seqently  turned  back  ;  and  whilst  we  were  retracing  our  steps, 
not  a  little  chagrined,  we  were  accosted  by  the  kesneclar,  or  grand 
treasurer,  who  was  returning  from  the  Mint  to  the  interior  of  the 
Seraglio,  where  he  has  apartments.  Being  informed  by  his  friend 
Rustem  Bey  of  the  cause  of  our  disappointment,  he  requested  us 
to  follow  him  ;  and  without  any  difficulty  he  introduced  us  into 
the  court  of  the  icoglans. 

This  court,  which  is  less  spacious  than  those  we  first  entered, 
is  formed  by  several  small  palaces  in  the  form  of  kiosks,  having 
very  low  roofs,  projecting  about  seven  or  eight  feet  beyond  the 
walls,  and  supported  by  small  columns  or  little  Moorish  pillars  of 
painted  wood.  The  columns,  the  pillars,  the  walls,  and  the  roofs, 
are  all  of  carved  wood,  and  painted  various  colors.  The  courts  and 
gardens,  consisting  of  the  intervening  spaces  between  the  kiosks, 
are  of  various  sizes,  and  irregularly  planted  with  trees  of  every 
kind.  Their  branches  spread  over  the  buildings  and  completely 
envelope  the  roofs  and  terraces.  The  right  wing  of  these  edifices 
consists  of  kitchens.  They  are  large  buildings,  with  numerous 
chimneys,  and  their  external  walls  are  blackened  by  smoke. 
Some  idea  of  the  magnitude  of  these  kitchens  may  be  formed, 
when  it  is  known  that  the  sultan  boards  all  the  persons  attached 
to  the  court  and  palace,  and  that  the  number  of  these  guests 
amounts  to  at  least  ten  thousand  per  day. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


245 


At  a  little  distance  in  advance  of  the  kitchens  stands  a  pretty 
little  palace,  surrounded  by  a  gallery  or  portico,  on  a  level  with 
the  ground.  This  is  the  abode  of  the  pages  or  icoglans  of  the 
Seraglio:  it  is  there  that  the  sultan  educates  the  sons  of  the  offi¬ 
cers  of  his  court,  or  young  slaves  destined  to  fill  situations  in  the 
seraglio  or  in  the  government  offices.  This  palace,  which  was 
formerly  the  dwelling  of  the  sultans  themselves,  is  decorated  both 
externally  and  internally  with  a  profusion  of  carving,  sculpture, 
and  gilding,  but  is  nevertheless  in  good  taste.  The  ceilings  are 
as  rich  as  those  of  the  finest  palaces  of  France  or  Italy  ;  and  the 
floors  are  formed  of  mosaic  work.  The  palace  contains  several 
apartments  nearly  of  equal  size.  On  each  side  of  these  apart¬ 
ments,  there  are  niches  and  stalls  of  carved  wood,  the  workman¬ 
ship  of  which  is  not  inferior  to  the  stalls  in  the  choirs  of  our  old 
cathedrals.  Each  of  these  niches  is  the  sleeping-place  of  an  icog- 
lan.  At  the  further  end  of  each,  there  is  an  alcove  in  which  he 
lays  his  cushions  and  his  carpets,  and  where  his  clothes  are  either 
hung  up,  or  laid  in  a  box  of  gilt  wood.  Above  these  niches, 
there  is  a  gallery  which  is  ornamented  and  decorated,  and  fur¬ 
nished  with  as  many  stalls  as  the  lower  apartments.  The 
whole  is  lighted  by  cupolas,  or  small  windows  in  the  roof  of 
the  edifice.  The  young  icoglans,  who  had  been  pupils  of  Rustem 
Bey,  received  him  with  the  most  affecting  demonstration  of  at¬ 
tachment.  The  visit  of  a  father  long  expected,  could  not  have 
been  more  joyfully  received — the  affection  of  these  youths  drew 
tears  from  Rustem  Bey,  and  I  was,  myself,  deeply  moved  at  the 
spontaneous  and  sincere  expression  of  their  feelings.  They  took 
my  friend  by  the  hand,  and  kissed  the  skirts  of  his  coat. 

“  Rustem  Bey  !  Rustem  Bey  !”  they  exclaimed  one  after  the 
other,  and  all  hastened  to  meet  him,  breathless  and  flushed  with 
joy.  Be  could  scarcely  free  himself  from  their  caresses,  and 
they  addressed  to  him  the  most  affectionate  language.  “  Rustem 
Bey,”  said  they  to  him,  “  why  have  you  been  absent  so  long  ? 
You  have  been  a  father  to  us,  and  we  have,  been  longing  to  see 
you.  We  are  indebted  to  you  for  all  that  we  know.  Allah  and 
the  sultan  have  sent  you  to  make  men  of  us.  Before,  we  were 
only  slaves — sons  of  slaves.  The  name  of  the  Osmanlis  was  a 
mockery  in  Europe:  henceforth,  we  will  defend  it  and  honor  it. 
But,  tell  the  sultan  to  send  you  back  to  us.  We  do  not  study 
now  ;  we  pine  in  dullness  and  weariness.” 

Five  or  six  of  these  youths,  whose  countenances  were  re¬ 
markably  open  and  intelligent,  showed  us  over  the  building. 


246  A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


They  conducted  us  to  their  saloon  of  recreation,  It  was  a  kiosk 
surrounded  by  gurgling  fountains,  which  fell  from  the  walls  into 
marble  basins.  There  were  divans  all  round  it,  and  a  staircase, 
concealed  in  the  thickness  of  the  walls,  led  to  the  offices,  where 
numerous  slaves  kept  pipes,  coffee,  sherbets,  water,  and  ice,  always 
in  readiness  for  the  icoglans.  They  played  at  all  sorts  of  games  in 
this  saloon,  and  several  of  the  msat  down  to  chess.  They  ordered 
sherbets  and  ices  to  he  served  to  us,  and  reclining  on  the  divans,  we 
conversed  with  them  for  a  long  time  respecting  their  studies,  the 
politics  of  Europe,  and  the  destiny  of  the  Turkish  empire.  They 
shuddered  with  indignation  at  their  present  condition,  and  prayed 
for  the  success  of  the  sultan  in  his  reforming  enterprises.  I  nev¬ 
er  witnessed  greater  ardor  for  the  regeneration  of  a  country  than 
that  which  animated  these  young  men.  Young  Italians,  when 
conversing  on  independence  and  the  diffusion  of  knowledge,  do 
not  evince  greater  enthusiasm :  their  countenances  lighted  up 
when  they  spoke.  The  oldest  of  them  might  be  about  twenty  or 
twenty-two,  and  the  youngest  about  twelve  or  thirteen.  Except 
at  the  naval  asylum  at  Greenwich,  l  never  saw  finer  looking  lads 
than  some  of  these  young  Turks.  They  reluctantly  suffered  us  to 
depart,  and  they  accompanied  us  wherever  they  were  permitted 
to  go  into  the  surrounding  gardens,  courts,  and  kiosks.  Several 
of  them  shed  tears  on  taking  leave  of  Rustem  Bey. 

Meanwhile  the  kesnedar  had  gone  to  order  the  eunuchs  and 
keepers  of  the  gardens  and  palaces  to  admit  us  freely  to  any  place 
we  might  wish  to  enter.  At  the  extremity  of  the  court-yard,  a 
little  beyond  the  palace  of  the  icoglans,  a  large  building  inter¬ 
cepted  our  view  and  our  further  advance.  This  is  the  habitation 
of  the  sultans  themselves.  Like  the  kiosks  and  palaces  we  had 
already  seen,  it  \vas  surrounded  by  a  gallery  formed  of  a  prolon¬ 
gation  of  roofs.  On  this  gallery  open  the  numberless  doors  and 
windows  of  the  apartments.  The  palace  is  all  on  the  ground- 
floor.  We  entered  the  large  halls  which  serve  as  a  vestibule  and 
communicate  with  the  different  apartments.  This  vestibule  is  a 
labyrinth  composed  of  the  pillars  which  support  the  roofs  and 
ceilings,  and  whence  branch  off  vast  circular  corridors  for  the 
persons  in  immediate  attendance  on  the  sultan.  The  pillars,  ceil¬ 
ings,  and  walls  are  all  of  painted  wood  carved  in  Moorish  orna¬ 
ments.  The  doors  of  the  imperial  apartments  were  open,  and  we 
looked  into  several  of  them.  They  all  nearly  resembled  each 
other  in  arrangement  and  decoration.  The  ceilings  were  all 
moulded  and  gilt,  and  surmounted  by  cupolas  of  wood  or  marble, 


V 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND 


247 


carved  in  arabesque  open  work,  through  which  was  admitted  a 
soft  and  veiled  light.  Broad  and  low  divans  were  ranged  round 
the  walls  :  no  other  furniture,  no  other  seats,  except  carpets,  mats, 
and  cushions.  The  windows,  which  are  about  half  a  foot  from 
the  floor,  look  to  the  courts,  galleries,  terraces,  and  gardens.  On 
the  side  of  the  palace  facing  that  at  which  we  entered,  there  was 
a  terrace  or  platform  built  of  stone  and  paved  with  marble.  A 
beautiful  kiosk,  in  which  the  sultan  receives  the  foreign  ambassa¬ 
dors,  is  detached  from  the  palace,  and  is  elevated  a  few  feet  above 
this  platform.  It  is  like  a  little  Moorish  chapel.  A  divan  com¬ 
pletely  fills  it.  It  is  surrounded  by  circular  windows,  which  com¬ 
mand  a  superb  view  of  Constantinople,  the  port,  the  sea  of  Mar¬ 
mora,  and  the  Bosphorus.  Marble  fountains  form  jets-d’eau  on  an 
open  gallery  between  the  kiosk  and  the  palace.  It  is  a  delicious 
promenade.  The  shrubs  and  rose  trees  from  the  little  gardens 
which  cover  the  low  terraces  creep  up  the  balustrades,  and  dif¬ 
fuse  their  balmy  perfume  through  the  kiosk.  Some  pictures, 
painted  on  marble  and  wood,  are  hung  round  the  walls.  They 
represent  views  of  Mecca  and  Medina.  I  examined  them  atten¬ 
tively.  They  are  like  plans,  without  perspective.  They  per¬ 
fectly  accord  with  what  Ali  Bey  has  related  of  Mecca,  of  the 
Kaaba,  and  the  arrangement  of  the  different  sacred  monuments  of 
the  Holy  City  ;  and  they  prove  that  that  traveler  really  visited  the 
places  he  has  described.  What  he  says  of  the  circular  gallery 
surrounding  the  area  of  the  different  mosques  is  attested  by  these 
paintings.  They  represent  the  portico,  which  resembles  that  of 
St.  Peter’s  at  Rome. 

Having  passed  along  the  platform  of  the  palace  on  the  left,  we 
reached,  by  a  narrow  balcony  supported  by  high  terraces,  the 
harem,  or  palace  of  the  sultanas.  It  was  closed,  and  only  a 
small  number  of  Odalisques  remained  in  it.  We  did  not  venture 
to  approach  very  near  to  this  place,  which  is  interdicted  even  to 
the  eye.  We  saw  only  the  grated  windows  and  the  delicious  bal¬ 
conies  with  their  trellis- work  intertwined  with  flowers,  where  the 
women  pass  their  time  in  looking  at  the  gardens,  the  city,  and  the 
sea.  We  cast  our  eyes  over  a  multitude  of  parterres,  surrounded 
by  marble  walls,  watered  by  fountains,  and  planted  symmetrically 
with  all  sorts  of  flowers  and  shrubs.  These  gardens,  which  are 
reached  by  descending  flights  of  steps,  and  which  communicate 
one  with  another,  have  also  elegant  kiosks.  There  the  women 
and  children  of  the  harem  walk  about  and  enjoy  the  charms  of 


nature 


248 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


We  reached  the  declivity  of  the  hill  of  the  Seraglio,  which 
descends  toward  the  port  and  the  sea  of  Marmora.  We  now 
stood  on  the  most  elevated  point  of  this  spot,  which  is  unique  in 
the  whole  world,  and  whence  the  eye  commands  all  the  hills  and 
all  the  seas  of  Constantinople.  We  stopped  a  considerable  time 
to  enjoy  the  prospect :  it  was  the  same  enchantment  of  the  sight 
as  that  which  1  described  from  the  belvidere  of  Pera.  Whilst 
we  were  standing  on  this  terrace  of  the  palace,  the  clock  struck 
the  hour  of  repast,  and  a  number  of  slaves  passed  us,  bearing  on 
their  heads  large  pewter  dishes  containing  the  dinners  of  the  offi¬ 
cers,  the  eunuchs,  and  the  women  of  the  Seraglio.  We  were 
present  at  several  of  these  dinners.  They  consisted  of  pilaus, 
poultry,  koubes,  (little  balls  of  rice  and  meat  hashed  together  and 
roasted  in  a  vine  leaf,)  little  cakes  like  our  wafers,  and  vases  of 
water.  Wherever  the  slave  met  his  master,  there  he  set  down 
the  dinner.  Sometimes  it  was  in  a  corner  of  one  of  the  rooms  of 
the  palace  ;  sometimes  on  the  terrace,  under  the  shade  of  the  roof ; 
sometimes  in  the  gardens,  under  a  tree ;  and  sometimes  near  a 
fountain. 

The  kesnedar  came  to  look  for  us,  aiid  conducted  us  to  the 
kiosk  in  which  he  lived,  in  front  of  the  treasury  of  the  Seraglio. 
This  treasury,  which  contains  incalculable  wealth,  accumulated 
since  the  creation  of  the  empire,  is  a  large  stone  building,  with  a 
covered  portico.  The  building  is  very  little  elevated  above  the 
ground  :  the  doors  are  low,  and  the  apartments  like  cellars.  Large 
wooden  coffers,  painted  red,  are  filled  with  gold  and  silver  coin. 
A  certain  quantity  is  taken  every  week  for  the  service  of  the  em¬ 
pire.  Several  of  these  coffers  were  standing  under  the  portico. 
We  did  not  request  permission  to  enter  the  treasury,  but  we  were 
assured  that  independently  of  the  gold  and  silver  specie,  the  Kesne 
contains  vast  quantities  of  pearls  and  diamonds.  This  is  very 
probable,  since  the  sultans  have  always  been  accustomed  to  de¬ 
posit  their  jewels  in  this  treasury,  and  never  to  remove  them,  ex¬ 
cept  in  the  utmost  extremities  of  the  state.  But  after  all,  the 
value  of  these  precious  stones  is  merely  conventional,  and  if  the 
Grand  Signior  wished  to  sell  them,  he  would  diminish  their  price 
by  the  abundance  created  in  the  market ;  consequently,  these 
jewels  are  by  no  means  so  vast  a  financial  resource  as  they  seem 
to  be. 

The  kesnedar,  who  was  a  frank,  cheerful,  and  intelligent  man, 
conducted  me  to  his  own  apartments,  where  I  saw,  for  the  first 
time  in  Turkey,  something  like  the  elegance  and  convenience  of 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


‘249 


European  furniture.  The  divans  were  high,  and  covered  with 
silk  cushions,  and  there  were  tables  and  shelves  round  the  room. 
On  these  shelves  there  were  papers,  books,  maps,  and  a  terrestrial 
globe.  Sweetmeats  and  sherbet  were  handed  to  us.  We  convers¬ 
ed  on  the  state  of  the  arts  and  sciences  in  Europe,  compared  with 
the  state  of  human  knowledge  in  the  Ottoman  empire.  The  kes- 
nedar  appeared  to  me  to  be  as  well-informed  and  as  free  from  preju¬ 
dices  as  any  European.  He  earnestly  prayed  for  the  success  of 
Mahmoud  in  his  projected  reforms ;  but  being  old,  and  having  passed 
his  life  in  confidential  employments  in  the  Seraglio  under  four  sul¬ 
tans,  he  seems  to  cherish  but  little  hope,  and  is  philosophically  re¬ 
signed  to  fate  :  he  leads  a  tranquil  and  solitary  life  within  the  walls 
of  the  forsaken  Seraglio.  He  asked  me  a  multitude  of  questions  on 
various  subjects  ;  viz.  philosophy,  religion,  poetry,  politics,  milita¬ 
ry  tactics,  and  different  systems  of  government — republican  and 
monarchical.  He  discussed  all  these  subjects  with  a  degree  of 
judgment  and  shrewdness  which  convinced  me  that  he  was  one  of 
the  most  able  men  in  the  Turkish  empire.  He  placed  his  globe 
of  the  earth  before  me,  and  having  sent  for  a  celestial  globe,  he 
asked  me  to  explain  to  him  the  movements  of  the  planets,  and  the 
divisions  of  the  earth.  He  made  notes  of  all  I  said,  and  appeared 
delighted.  He  begged  that  I  would  stay  and  sup  with  him,  and 
pass  the  night  at  his  lodgings.  We  found  it  very  difficult  to  de¬ 
cline  his  urgent  invitations ;  and  indeed  I  could  only  excuse  my¬ 
self  by  telling  him  that  my  wife  and  friends,  who  knew  I  had 
come  to  the  Seraglio,  would  be  in  a  painful  state  of  anxiety  if  I 
did  not  speedily  return. 

“You  are,  indeed,”  said  he,  “the  first  Frank  who  ever  enter¬ 
ed  here,  and  that  is  a  reason  why  you  should  be  treated  with  the 
more  attention.  The  sultan  is  great,  and  Allah  is  for  all !” 

He  escorted  us  as  far  as  the  inner  staircase,  leading  from  the 
platform  of  the  sultan’s  palace  into  the  labyrinth  of  the  little  gar¬ 
dens  of  the  harem,  of  which  I  have  already  spoken.  There  he 
consigned  us  to  the  guidance  of  a  chief  of  the  bostangis,  who  led 
us  from  kiosk  to  kiosk,  from  parterre  to  parterre,  (the  latter  all 
watered  with  delicious  fountains,)  till  we  reached  a  gate  in  a  high 
wall,  which  separates  the  interior  part  of  the  Seraglio  from  the 
large  surrounding  lawns.  There  we  found  ourselves  beneath 
some  enormous  plantains,  upwards  of  a  hundred  feet  high,  which 
spread  their  branches  over  the  walls,  and  shade  the  high  balconies 
of  the  harem.  These  trees  form  a  forest,  intersected  with  green 
lawns.  Further  on  we  came  to  large  fruit  trees  and  kitchen  gar- 


250 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


dens,  cultivated  by  negro  slaves,  who  have  their  huts  under  the 
trees.  These  irregular  plantations  are  watered  by  little  streams. 

Not  far  from  the  harem  stands  an  old  and  magnificent  palace 
of  Bajazet,  now  overgrown  with  ivy,  and  inhabited  only  by  the 
birds  of  night.  It  is  built  of  stone,  in  a  beautiful  style  of  Arab 
architecture.  It  might  easily  be  repaired,  and  it  would  of  itself 
be  worth  the  whole  Seraglio ;  but  tradition  affirms  that  it  is 
haunted  by  evil  spirits,  and  accordingly  no  Osmanli  will  enter  it. 
As  we  were  now  alone,  I  entered  the  subterranean  arches  of  this 
fine  ruin :  they  were  almost  choked  up  with  rubbish.  The  walls 
and  staircases  which  I  had  time  to  take  a  glimpse  of,  appeared  to 
be  specimens  of  exquisite  workmanship. 

On  again  reaching  one  of  the  gates  in  the  Seraglio  walls,  we 
passed  through  a  forest  of  plantains,  sycamores,  and  cypresses, 
the  largest  I  ever  saw,  and  we  made  the  tour  of  the  outer  gardens. 
They  brought  us  to  the  bank  of  the  sea  of  Marmora,  where  there 
are  two  or  three  magnificent  palaces  inhabited  by  the  sultans 
during  the  summer  season.  The  apartments  of  these  palaces  look 
close  upon  the  water,  and  are  unceasingly  freshened  by  the  sea- 
breezes.  Further  on  we  came  to  some  little  green  hills,  on  which 
were  mosques,  kiosks,  and  fountains,  encircled  by  marble  para¬ 
pets,  and  shaded  by  large  trees.  Here  we  sat  down  among  the 
flowers  and  the  fountains :  behind  us  rose  the  lofty  walls  of  the 
Seraglio,  and  before  us  lay  a  sloping  lawn  of  green  turf,  termi¬ 
nating  at  the  sea.  Between  the  sea  and  ourselves  rose  a  curtain 
of  cypress  and  plantains,  extending  along  the  boundary  wall. 
Through  this  curtain  of  foliage,  we  perceived  the  waves  of  the  sea 
of  Marmora,  the  Prince’s  islands,  multitudes  of  vessels  at  full  sail, 
whose  masts  glided  from  tree  to  tree,  and  Scutari  tinged  with  the 
rays  of  the  setting  sun :  the  gilded  summits  of  the  Giant’s  Moun¬ 
tain,  and  the  snowy  tops  of  the  mountains  of  Phrygia,  formed  the 
framework  of  the  enchanting  picture. 

Thus  have  I  attempted  to  describe  the  interior  of  the  Serag¬ 
lio : — that  scene  of  so  much  mystery  and  bloodshed,  where  the 
Ottoman  empire  had  its  birth,  but  where  it  will  not  die  ;  for  since 
the  massacre  of  the  Janissaries,  Sultan  Mahmoud  does  not  inhabit 
the  Seraglio.  He  is  a  man  of  mild  disposition,  and  that  sangui¬ 
nary  event  is  revolting  to  his  feelings.  Perhaps,  too,  he  does  not 
consider  himself  quite  safe  amidst  the  fanatical  population  of  Con¬ 
stantinople,  and  prefers  having  one  foot  in  Asia  and  one  on  board 
his  fleet,  as  he  may  have  in  any  one  of  his  thirty  palaces  on  the 
banks  of  the  Bosphorus.  The  general  character  of  the  Seraglio 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


251 


is  neither  grandeur,  convenience,  nor  splendor ;  it  is  merely  an 
assemblage  of  wooden  tents,  gilt  and  ornamented  with  open-work. 
It  is  characterized  by  the  feeling  which  predominates  among  the 
people,  viz.  the  love  of  nature.  The  admiration  of  beautiful 
prospects,  groves,  fountains,  the  expanse  of  the  sea,  and  the  hori¬ 
zon  bounded  by  chains  of  snow-capped  mountains,  is  the  ruling 
instinct  of  the  nation.  In  this  may  be  traced  the  recollections  of 
a  pastoral  and  agricultural  people,  who  love  to  cherish  the  remem¬ 
brance  of  their  origin,  and  whose  tastes  are  all  simple  and  instinc¬ 
tive.  They  have  raised  the  palace  of  their  sovereigns,  the  capital 
of  their  imperial  city,  on  the  slope  of  the  loveliest  hill  in  the  em¬ 
pire,  and  perhaps  in  the  whole  world.  The  Seraglio  has  neither 
the  external  grandeur,  nor  the  internal  luxury  of  a  European 
palace.  Its  charms  consist  in  spacious  gardens  with  trees  inter¬ 
twining,  free  and  eternal  as  in  a  virgin  forest,  with  fountains 
murmuring  and  ring-doves  cooing ;  apartments  whose  numerous 
windows  are  ever  open  ;  terraces  overlooking  the  gardens  and 
sea ;  and  grated  kiosks  where  the  sultans,  seated  behind  their 
window-blinds,  may  at  once  enjoy  solitude  and  the  magic  scenery 
of  the  Bosphorus.  It  is  the  same  throughout  all  Turkey.  Sove¬ 
reign  and  subjects,  rich  and  poor,  have  but  one  want,  one  feeling, 
in  the  choice  and  arrangement  of  their  dwellings,  viz.  to  charm 
the  eye  with  a  beautiful  prospect.  If  the  situation  of  the  house 
and  the  poverty  of  the  owner  preclude  this  luxury,  then  at  least 
there  are  a  tree,  a  sheep,  and  a  dove-cot  in  a  patch  of  ground 
surrounding  the  hut.  Thus  every  elevated  site  commanding  a 
fine  prospect  is  occupied  by  a  mosque,  a  santoon,  and  a  Turkish 
cabin.  There  is  not  a  little  hill,  or  a  smiling  gulf,  along  either 
of  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus,  where  a  pacha  or  a  vizier  has  not 
built  a  villa  and  laid  out  a  garden.  To  sit  beneath  the  shade  of 
a  tree,  near  a  refreshing  fountain,  with  a  magnificent  view  of  the 
country  or  the  sea,  and  to  spend  hours  and  days  in  tranquil,  vague 
contemplation — this  is  the  highest  luxury  of  Mussulman  life.  It 
accounts  for  the  peculiar  structure  and  arrangement  of  the  Turk¬ 
ish  houses,  and  it  also  explains  why  the  people  are  inactive  and 
silent,  until  some  violent  excitement  rouses  the  energy  which  lies 
dormant,  but  not  extinct,  within  them.  The  Turks  are  not  loqua¬ 
cious  like  the  Arabs.  They  attach  little  value  to  the  gratifications 
of  vanity  and  society ;  the  charms  of  nature  are  all  they  seek. 
They  dream,  meditate,  and  pray.  They  are  a  nation  of  philoso¬ 
phers,  deducing  every  thing  from  nature,  and  referring  every 
thing  to  God.  God  is  incessantly  in  their  thoughts  and  in  their 


252 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


mouths ;  and  with  them  the  Deity  is  not  a  mere  vage  idea,  but  a 
palpable,  evident,  and  practical  reality.  The  virtue  of  the  Turk 
is  perpetual  adoration  of  the  divine  will  ;  his  dogma  is  fatality. 
With  this  faith  the  world  may  be  conquered  ;  but  it  may  be  lost 
with  the  same  facility,  the  same  indifference. 

We  left  the  Seraglio  by  the  gate  which  opens  to  the  port; 
and  I  entered  the  beautiful  kiosk  on  the  quay  where  the  sultan 
sits  to  receive  the  salutations  of  his  fleets,  when  they  depart  on 
any  expedition,  or  return  home. 

June  22. 

Two  of  my  friends  have  left  me,  to  return  to  Europe.  I  am 
now  alone  at  Buyukdere,  with  my  wife  and  M.  de  Capmas. 

June  25. 

We  have  spent  two  days  at  Belgrade,  a  village  in  the  midst 
of  the  forest  of  that  name,  four  leagues  from  Constantinople. 
The  forest,  which  consists  of  oak  trees,  is  of  immense  magnitude, 
and  covers  the  hills  situated  between  the  Bosphorus  and  the  sea 
of  Marmora,  at  an  equal  distance  from  both,  and  extends  without 
interruption  as  far  as  the  Balkans.  This  place  is  as  wild  and 
as  graceful  as  any  of  the  English  forests.  The  Greek  village  of 
Belgrade  is  built  in  a  large  valley  in  the  midst  of  the  forest  :  it 
is  surrounded  by  Arcadian  meadows,  and  a  river  flows  beneath 
the  shade  of  the  oak  trees.  Magnificent  artificial  basins  are 
formed  in  the  hollows  between  the  hills,  to  collect  the  waters  and 
supply  the  fountains  of  Constantinople.  Here  I  partook  of  the 
kind  hospitality  of  MM.  Aleon,  French  bankers,  who  have  been 
established  for  two  or  three  generations  at  Constantinople,  and 
who  have  a  delightful  house  at  Buyukdere,  and  a  hunting  villa 
at  Belgrade.  In  this  charming  family  I  found  elegance  of  man¬ 
ners,  elevated  feeling  and  cultivation  of  mind,  combined  with  the 
winning  grace  and  simplicity  of  the  East.  At  Constantinople  I 
likewise  met  with  another  agreeable  introduction  in  M.  Salzani, 
the  brother  of  my  banker  at  Smyrna,  an  amiable  and  intelligent 
man,  who  treated  us  as  his  countrymen  and  friends.  In  general, 
the  Frank  society  of  Constantinople,  which  consists  of  officers,  of 
the  foreign  ambassadors  and  their  suites,  the  consuls,  the  families 
of  the  dragomans,  and  the  merchants  of  different  European  na¬ 
tions,  is  far  above  its  reputation.  Being  confined  within  a  limited 
space,  it  has  the  defects  of  the  society  of  small  towns, — a  prone¬ 
ness  to  gossiping  and  jealousy ;  but  it  is  likewise  distinguished 
for  probity,  information,  elegance,  and  the  most  cordial  hospitality 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


253 


to  strangers.  The  current  events  of  Europe  are  as  well  known 
there  as  in  the  circles  of  Vienna  or  Paris,  and  the  strongest  in- 
terest  is  felt  in  the  political  events  of  the  West.  I  met  with  men 
of  extended  information,  and  women  distinguished  for  beauty  and 
accomplishments.  In  the  saloons  of  Pera  and  Therapia,  a  stran¬ 
ger  might  fancy  himself  in  the  most  elegant  drawing-rooms  of 
our  great  cities  in  Europe,  if  he  did  not  cast  his  eyes  on  the 
Bosphorus,  or  see  the  Golden  Horn  at  the  further  end  of  the  gar¬ 
dens,  sparkling  amongst  the  shrubs  and  trees. 

29th  June,  1833. 

We  have  had  an  excursion  on  the  fresh  waters  of  Europe. 
At  the  bottom  of  the  port  of  Constantinople,  the  hills  of  Evoub 
and  those  of  Pera  and  Galata  approximate  insensibly,  and  leave 
only  a  narrow  arm  of  the  sea  between  them.  On  the  left  extends 
the  suburb  of  Eyoub,  with  its  mosque,  where  the  sultans,  on 
ascending  the  throne,  gird  themselves  with  the  sabre  of  Mahomet ; 
for  the  coronation  of  blood  and  the  consecration  of  force  is  the 
religion  of  the  Mussulman  despotism.  This  pyramidal  mosque 
rises  gracefully  above  the  painted  houses  of  the  suburb,  and  the 
tops  of  its  minarets  mingle  in  the  horizon  with  the  high  ruinous 
walls  of  Constantinople.  On  the  edge  of  the  canal  stands  a  hand¬ 
some  palace  belonging  to  the  sultanas :  the  windows  are  level 
with  the  canal ;  and  the  large  and  tufted  tops  of  the  trees  in  the 
gardens  rise  above  the  roof,  and  are  reflected  in  the  water.  Be¬ 
yond  this  palace,  the  sea  dwindles  into  a  river,  flowing  between 
beautiful  greenswards  interspersed  with  slopes,  gardens,  and 
woods.  Here  Bulgarian  shepherds  are  seen  playing  on  their 
pipes,  whilst,  seated  on  the  rocks,  they  tend  their  herds  of  goats 
and  horses.  At  length,  the  river  becomes  a  mere  brook,  the 
banks  of  which  are  touched  by  the  oars  of  the  canues  as  they 
glide  along,  and  the  branches  of  superb  elms  stretching  from  side 
to  side  embarass  the  rowers.  A  vast  meadow,  shaded  by  groups 
of  plantains,  extends  on  the  right,  while  the  left  bank  is  crowned 
by  green  and  wooded  hills.  Further  on,  in  the  direction  of  the 
stream,  the  view  is  lost  among  irregular  avenues  of  trees,  which 
shadow  the  brook,  and  follow  all  its  windings.  Thus  terminates 
the  beautiful  port  of  Constantinople,  and  thus  also  ends  the  vast 
and  tempestuous  Mediterranean.  You  land  at  last  in  a  shady 
creek,  at  the  bottom  of  a  verdure-girdled  gulf,  on  a  grassy  and 
flowery  bank,  far  removed  from  the  noise  and  bustle  of  the  sea 
and  the  city.  How  happy  would  be  the  man  who  should  end  his 
life  in  such  a  spot  as  this  !  I  could  not  wish  a  happier  close  tQ 
VOL.  ii.  12 


254 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


the  lives  of  my  dearest  friends,  who  are  now  struggling  on  the 
busy  scene  of  the  world.  Here  one  may  enjoy  silence  after  tur¬ 
moil,  repose  after  agitation.  It  is  a  resting-place  of  shade  and 
solitude,  in  which  to  reflect  on  life  past,  and  to  die  in  peace  and 
friendship  with  nature  and  with  all  mankind.  For  myself,  I  have 
no  wish  beyond  this. 

Stepping  from  the  caique,  T  walked  along  the  banks  of  the 
stream  until  I  arrived  at  a  kiosk,  which  I  discerned  flickering 
among  the  trees.  Round  the  trunk  of  each  tree  was  assembled  a 
group  of  Jewish,  Turkish,  and  Armenian  women,  who,  with  their 
beautiful  children,  were  playing  upon  the  grass,  and  enjoying 
their  repast  in  the  shade.  Saddle-horses,  superbly  caparisoned, 
and  arabas  (the  carriages  used  at  Constantinople),  were  scattered 
here  and  there  over  the  meadow.  In  front  of,  and  around,  the 
kiosk  were  a  canal,  and  different  pieces  of  water,  on  which  swans 
were  swimming.  The  gardens  were  small,  but  indeed  the  whole 
meadow  may  be  said  to  be  a  garden.  Here  formerly  the  reigning 
sultan  used  to  spend  the  sultry  season.  Fie  was  attached  to  this 
delicious  retreat,  because  it  was  much  liked  by  a  favorite  oda¬ 
lisque.  After  the  massacres  of  the  Almeidan,  love  found  a  place 
in  the  breast  of  Mahmoud  ;  but  the  beautiful  odalisque  died  in  his 
retreat,  and  since  then  Mahmoud  has  not  resided  here.  It  is  said, 
however,  that  he  sometimes  visits  the  tomb  of  the  fair  odalisque, 
which  consecrates  the  gardens  of  the  deserted  palace.  My  day 
was  passed  in  the  depths  of  this  valley  under  the  shade  of  the  trees. 
I  wrote  some  verses  to  V****. 

3d  July. 

I  embarked  this  morning  for  Constantinople.  I  reascended 
the  Bosphorus,  entered  the  sea  of  Marmora,  and  after  rowing  for 
about  two  hours  along  the  outer  walls  which  separate  Stamboul 
from  that  sea,  I  landed  at  the  base  of  the  castle  of  the  Seven  Tow¬ 
ers.  We  had  with  us  neither  teskere  nor  guide.  The  Turkish 
soldiers  with  considerable  reluctance  permitted  us  to  enter  the 
first  court  of  the  Castle  of  Blood,  whither  the  dethroned  sultans 
were  dragged  to  suffer  the  death  doomed  by  the  populace,  who 
were  at  once  judges  and  executioners.  Six  or  seven  heads  of 
decapitated  emperors  have  rolled  along  the  pavement  of  this  court, 
while  millions  of  meaner  heads  have  been  exposed  on  the  battle¬ 
ments  of  the  tower.  The  warden  refused  to  allow  us  to  proceed 
further.  Whilst  he  was  gone  to  get  instructions  from  the  com¬ 
mandant  of  the  castle,  the  door  of  a  low  vaulted  room  in  the  east¬ 
ern  tower  opened.  I  advanced  a  few  steps ;  a  loud  roar  made 


i 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE*.  HOLY  LAND. 


255 


the  walls  vibrate,  and  I  found  myself  face  to  face  with  a  magnifi¬ 
cent  lion.  He  was  chained  up,  but  he  made  a  spring  at  a  beautiful 
greyhound  which  I  had  with  me.  The  animal  escaped,  and  ran 
for  protection  between  my  legs.  The  lion  then  raised  himself  on 
his  hind  legs,  but  his  chain  confined  him  to  the  wall.  I  made  the 
best  of  my  way  out,  and  closed  the  door.  The  warden,  arriving 
soon  after,  told  me  that  it  would  be  at  the  peril  of  his  head  if  he 
allowed  me  to  proceed  a  step  further.  I  retired,  and  left  the 
boundaries  of  the  city  by  a  gate  in  the  old  walls  leading  into  the 
open  country.  The  walls  of  Constantinople  commence  at  the 
castle  of  the  Seven  Towers  upon  the  sea  of  Marmora,  and  extend 
as  far  as  the  summits  of  the  hills  which  crown  the  suburb  of 
Eyoub,  near  the  extremity  of  the  port,  at  the  fresh  waters  of 
Europe  :  thus  they  inclose  all  the  ancient  city  of  the  Greek  em¬ 
perors  as  well  as  the  Stamboul  of  the  Turkish  sultans,  on  the  only 
side  of  the  triangle  which  is  not  defended  by  the  sea.  On  this 
side,  indeed,  Constantinople  is  solely  protected  by  the  insensible 
acclivity  of  its  hills,  which  at  length  merge  into  a  fine  cultivated 
plain.  Here  was  raised  that  triple  line  of  walls  which  repelled 
so  many  assaults,  and  behind  which  the  miserable  Greek  empire 
was  so  long  thought  to  be  imperishable.  These  well-built  walls 
are  still  standing,  and,  next  to  the  Parthenon  and  Balbec,  are  the 
noblest  existing  memorials  of  ruined  empires.  This  morning  I 
walked  along  the  external  side  of  the  walls.  They  consist  of 
stone  terraces  from  fifty  to  sixty  feet  in  height,  and  occasionally 
from  fifteen  to  twenty  feet  thick,  covered  with  freestone  of  a 
grayish-white  color,  but  sometimes  of  pure  white,  and  seeming 
fresh  from  the  chisel  of  the  mason.  At  the  foot  of  the  walls  are 
the  ancient  fosses,  filled  with  rubbish  and  luxuriant  loam,  in 
which  trees  and  pellitories  have  taken  root  ages  ago,  and  now 
form  an  impenetrable  glacis.  It  is  in  fact  a  green  wood,  thirty  or 
forty  feet  long,  peopled  by  birds  and  reptiles.  In  many  parts  this 
wood  conceals  the  walls  and  the  square  towers  by  which  it  is 
flanked,  leaving  nothing  visible  but  the  battlements.  In  other 
parts,  the  wall  is  seen  in  its  full  height,  and  then  it  reflects  the 
rays  of  the  sun  with  rich  effect.  It  is  broken  into  fissures  of  every 
form  at  top  ;  and  the  vegetation  taking  root  there,  descends  as  in 
the  ravines  of  mountains,  and  mingles  at  last  with  the  verdure  in 
the  fosses.  The  summit  of  the  wall  is  almost  every  where  crowned 
with  vegetation,  which  overhangs  and  forms  a  sort  of  coping  sur¬ 
mounted  by  capitals  and  volutes  of  climbing  plants  and  ivy. 
Here  and  there  may  be  seen  a  plantain  or  a  cypress  springing 


256 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


from  amid  the  towers  covered  by  dust,  and  interlacing  their  roots 
among  the  clefts  of  the  wall.  The  weight  of  their  foliage  and 
branches,  and  the  strong  breezes  to  which  these  aerial  trees  are 
incessantly  exposed,  make  them  incline  to  the  south,  and  they 
hang  as  if  uprooted,  their  immense  branches  being  laden  with 
nests  and  myriads  of  birds. 

At  intervals  of  every  three  or  four  hundred  paces  appears 
one  of  the  double  towers,  of  magnificent  construction,  with  the 
enormous  arches  of  a  gate  or  antique  porch  between  the  two  por¬ 
tions  of  the  building.  The  greater  part  of  these  porches  are  now 
mured  up  ;  and  the  vegetation  which  has  taken  root  every  where, 
on  the  walls,  the  gates,  the  battlements,  and  the  turrets,  forms  it¬ 
self  into  the  most  grotesque  figures,  in  combination  with  the  ruins. 
The  ivy  hangs  from  the  summits  of  the  tower  like  the  folds  of 
immense  mantles ;  other  creeping  or  climbing  plants  form,  from 
one  cranny  to  the  other,  bridges  of  foliage,  fifty  feet  in  length  ; 
and  beds  of  gilliflowers  springing  from  the  perpendicular  walls 
wave  with  every  breeze  like  an  ocean  of  flowers,  while  the  shrubs 
form  themselves  into  jagged  battlements  of  a  thousand  different 
hues.  If  a  stone  be  thrown  against  these  verdure-clad  walls,  or 
into  the  abyss  of  shrubs  at  their  feet,  swarms  of  birds  immediate¬ 
ly  issue  forth.  We  perceived  also  a  number  of  eagles,  which  in¬ 
habit  the  towers,  and  hover  all  day  in  the  sun,  above  the  eyries 
where  they  feed  their  young. 


July. 


We  continue  to  lead  the  same  solitary  life  at  Buyukdere.  We 
spend  our  evenings  on  the  water  or  in  the  Valley  of  Roses,  and 
receive  weekly  visits  from  M.  Turqui.  Good  hearts  alone  possess 
the  virtue  of  consolation.  God  has  furnished  them  with  the  only 
dittany  for  the  incurable  wounds  of  the  heart, — sympathy. 

Yesterday  Count  Orloff,  the  commander  of  the  Russian  fleet 
and  army,  and  ambassador  extraordinary  from  the  Emperor  of 
Russia  to  the  Porte,  celebrated  the  success  of  his  mission,  as  well 
as  his  departure,  by  a  military  fete,  given  to  the  sultan,  on  the 
Bosphorus.  The  gardens  of  the  palace  of  the  Russian  Embassy 
at  Buyukdere  skirt  the  sides  of  a  woody  mountain,  which 
closes  the  bay,  and  whose  base  is  washed  by  the  sea.  The  ter¬ 
races  of  the  palace  command  a  view  of  the  Bosphorus  in  its 
double  course  towards  Constantinople  and  the  Black  Sea.  The 
Russian  fleet,  which  lay  at  anchor  off  the  gardens  in  front  of  our 
windows,  fired  minute  guns  during  the  whole  day,  and  the  flags 
flying  from  the  masts  of  the  vessels  appeared  to  mingle  with  the 
foliage  of  the  immense  trees  on  the  two  shores. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  TI1E  HOLY  LAND. 


257 


In  the  morning  the  sea  was  covered  with  small  vessels  and 
caiques,  conveying  from  Constantinople  fifteen  or  twenty  thousand 
spectators,  who  dispersed  themselves  in  the  kiosks,  in  the  mead¬ 
ows,  and  on  the  neighboring  rocks.  Many  remained  in  the 
caiques,  where  the  Jewish,  Turkish,  and  Armenian  women,  with 
their  gay-colored  dresses,  seemed  like  bouquets  of  flowers  scat¬ 
tered  over  the  surface  of  the  water.  The  Russian  camp,  which 
covered  the  sides  of  the  Giant’s  Mountain,  half  a  league  from  the 
fleet,  presented  with  its  white  and  blue  tents  a  striking  contrast 
to  the  sombre  foliage  and  parched  declivities  of  the  hill.  In  the 
evening,  the  Russian  ambassador’s  gardens  were  illuminated  by 
thousands  of  lamps  suspended  from  the  branches  of  the  trees. 
The  vessels  too,  being  illuminated  on  their  masts,  their  rigging, 
and  cordage,  looked,  like  fireships.  Their  broadsides  vomited 
volumes  of  flame;  while  the  tents  of  the  troops  about  to  embark, 
lighted  by  the  immense  fires  on  the  tops  of  the  mountains  of  Asia, 
were  reflected  in  luminous  masses  in  the  sea,  and  spread  the  lurid 
glare  of  a  conflagration  over  the  expansive  bosom  of  the  Bospho¬ 
rus.  The  grand  signior  arrived  in  the  middle  of  these  brilliant 
rejoicings  on  board  a  steamboat,  which  anchored  under  the  ter¬ 
races  of  the  Russian  ambassador’s  palace.  The  sultan  appeared 
on  deck  attended  by  his  vizier  and  his  favorite  pachas.  He  did 
not  go  ashore,  but  sent  the  grand  vizier  to  represent  him  at  the 
supper  given  by  Count  OrlofF.  Spacious  tables  laid  out  under 
long  avenues  of  plantain  trees,  and  others  buried  in  the  numerous 
groves  of  the  garden,  were  loaded  with  gold  and  silver  dishes, 
which  reflected  the  brilliancy  of  the  illuminated  trees.  At  the 
darkest  hour  of  the  night,  that  is,  a  little  before  the  rising  of  the 
moon,  some  fireworks  which  had  been  conveyed  on  rafts  into  the 
middle  of  the  Bosphorus,  at  an  equal  distance  from  the  three 
shores,  were  let  off,  and  shed  a  vermilion  light  over  the  moun¬ 
tains,  the  fleet,  and  the  innumerable  crowd  of  spectators,  whose 
caiques  covered  the  sea.  Never  did  the  eye  of  man  behold  a 
finer  sight !  One  might  have  fancied  that  the  canopy  of  heaven 
had  opened,  and  afforded  a  glimpse  of  an  enchanted  world,  with 
its  elements,  its  mountains,  its  seas,  and  its  skies  of  unknown 
forms  and  colors ;  while  thousands  of  vapory  shadows  flitted 
over  waves  of  light  and  fire.  Presently  all  was  again  plunged 
in  silence  and  darkness.  The  lamps  on  the  yards,  and  at  the 
port-holes  of  the  vessels,  were  extinguished  all  at  once,  as  if  by 
a  gust  of  wind.  The  moon  rising  between  the  brows  of  two  high 
mountains,  shed  her  soft  radiance  over  the  sea,  giving  a  pearly 


258 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


back-ground  to  the  enormous  black  masses  of  rock,  as  well  as  the 
spectral  forms  of  masts,  shrouds,  and  rigging.  The  sultan  took 
his  departure  in  his  light  steamboat,  which  spread  its  smoky 
column  far  across  the  waves,  and  vanished  in  silence,  like  some 
spirit  who  had  come  to  witness  the  downfall  of  an  empire. 

Unlike  Sardanapalus  feeding  the  flame  of  his  own  funereal 
pile  with  the  fiagments  of  his  fallen  throne,  Mahmoud  gave  the 
death-blow  to  a  tottering  empire,  sought  from  its  enemies  succor 
and  protection  against  a  revolted  slave,  and  witnessed  the  cele¬ 
bration  of  their  triumph  and  his  own  disgrace.  What  must  the 
old  Osmanlis  have  thought  when  they  beheld  the  fires  in  the 
camp  of  the  Christian  barbarians,  and  their  rockets  bursting  over 
the  sacred  mountains  of  Asia,  falling  on  the  domes  of  their 
mosques,  and  resounding  even  against  the  walls  of  the  ancient 
seraglio?  What  must  have  been  Mahmoud’s  feelings  under  the 
forced  smile  that  played  upon  his  lips  ?  A  serpent  must  have 
preyed  upon  his  heart.  There  was  something  profoundly  piti¬ 
able  in  his  situation,  and  what  he  must  have  suffered  might  well 
have  sufficed  to  create  heroism  out  of  remorse.  The  spectacle 
could  not  but  give  rise  to  consolatory  reflections  in  the  mind  of 
the  philosopher,  who  sees  the  hand  of  Providence  in  all  things. 

The  march  of  time  and  events  was  trampling  into  dust  an 
immense  empire,  the  obstacle  to  the  civilization  of  the  East,  and 
gradually  gathering  to  those  beautiful  regions  races  of  men  more 
vigorous,  governments  more  humane,  and  religions  more  enlight¬ 
ened. 

July. 

I  dined  to-day  at  Baron  Sturmer’s  with  the  Prince  Royal  of 
Bavaria,  who  has  stopped  some  days  at  Constantinople,  on  his  re¬ 
turn  from  Greece.  This  young  prince,  with  an  earnest  desire 
for  information,  and  with  the  good  sense  to  appear  forgetful  of 
the  throne  which  awaits  him,  seeks  the  conversation  of  men  who 
have  no  motives  for  flattering  him,  and  makes  their  remarks  the 
of  his  conduct.  His  own  conversation  is  exceedingly  agree- 

“The  king,  my  brother,”  said  he  to  me,  “  is  still  hesitating 
upon  the  choice  of  his  capital.  I  should  like  to  have  your  opin¬ 
ion  on  the  subject.” — “The  capital  of  Greece,”  replied  I,  “  is 
marked  out  by  the  very  nature  of  the  event  which  has  re-estab¬ 
lished  Greece.  Greece  is  a  resurrection  ; — and  where  a  thing 
is  revived,  it  should  be  restored  in  form  as  well  as  in  name  ;  in 
short,  as  far  as  possible  in  its  complete  individuality.  Athens, 


guide 

able. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


259 


with  its  ruins  and  recollections,  is  the  emblem  of  the  existence  of 
Greece.  That  city  then  must  be  the  point  of  her  regeneration, 
or  the  Greeks  will  never  be  any  thing  but  what  they  are :  a 
wretched  population,  spread  over  the  rocks  and  the  islands  of  the 
Peloponnesus.” 

July. 

The  Russian  fleet  and  army  have  departed.  They  have 
learned  their  way  hither,  and  have  accustomed  the  eyes  of  the 
Turks  to  their  presence.  The  Bosphorus  is  now  inanimate  and 
deserted. 

My  Arabian  horses  have  arrived  :  they  have  come  by  the  way 
of  Asia  Minor.  Tadmor,  the  handsomest  and  most  spirited  of 
the  whole,  died  at  Magnesia,  almost  at  the  end  of  the  journey. 

SThe  sais  wept  for  his  loss,  and  renewed  their  tears  on  recounting 
it  to  me.  He  was  the  admiration  of  all  the  towns  of  the  Cara- 
mania  through  which  he  passed.  The  rest  are  so  weak  and 
exhausted  that  they  will  require  a  month’s  repose  to  fit  them  for 
the  journey  through  European  Turkey  and  Germany.  I  have 
sold  the  two  handsomest  to  M.  de  Bontenief  for  the  Emperor  of 
Russia’s  stud.  The  other  three  I  have  disposed  of  to  different 
persons  in  Constantinople.  I  shall  never  cease  to  regret  Tadmor 
and  Saide. 

I  have  just  concluded  a  bargain  with  some  Turks  of  Stamboul, 
and  of  the  village  of  Eyoub,  who  own  those  carriages  in  which 
the  women  ride  about  the  streets  of  Constantinople.  They  have 
agreed  to  let  me  have  five  arabas,  each  harnessed  with  four  horses, 
to  convey  in  twenty-five  days  to  Belgrade,  myself,  my  wife,  M. 
de  Capmas,  my  servants,  and  our  baggage.  I  have  hired  two 
Tartars  to  conduct  the  caravan,  several  moukres  and  mule- 
drivers  for  conveying  our  bedding,  provisions,  books,  &c.,  and 
lastly  six  saddle  horses,  in  case  the  roads  do  not  permit  us  to  use 
the  arabas.  The  price  I  am  to  pay  for  all  these  horses  and  car¬ 
riages  is  about  four  thousand  francs.  An  excellent  interpreter 
accompanies  us  on  horseback.  Our  departure  is  fixed  for  the  23d 

Ju,y- 

July. 

We  left  Constantinople  at  two  o’clock  this  morning.  The 
horses  and  carriages  were  waiting  for  us  in  the  village  of  Eyoub, 
in  a  small  square  not  far  from  a  fountain  shaded  by  plantains. 
There  was  a  Turkish  coffee-house  hard  by.  A  crowd  assembled 
to  see  us  depart,  but  we  suffered  neither  insult  nor  robbery. 
Honesty  is  here  the  virtue  of  the  common  people ;  it  is  less 


260 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


frequently  met  with  in  palaces.  The  Turks,  who  were  sitting 
under  the  trees  before  the  coffee-houses,  and  the  people  who  passed 
by,  helped  to  load  our  arabas  and  our  horses,  and  gathered 
together  and  brought  to  us  any  little  articles  which  we  had 
dropped. 

We  began  our  journey  at  sunrise.  We  were  all  on  horse¬ 
back,  and  we  toiled  up  the  long,  solitary,  and  hilly  streets  of 
Eyoub,  as  far  as  the  Greek  walls  of  Stamboul.  On  leaving  those 
walls,  we  crossed  a  barren  hill,  on  which  were  some  superb  bar¬ 
racks.  In  front  of  these  barracks,  two  battalions  of  the  Nysam 
D’jedid,  or  regular  troops,  were  exercising.  M.  Turqui  and  the 
young  Greeks  attached  to  his  consulate  had  insisted  on  accom¬ 
panying  us.  We  parted  here.  We  embraced  this  excellent 
man,  who  had  been  a  providence  to  us  in  our  solitude.  When  we 
are  in  despair,  a  friendship  of  two  month’s  duration  is  like  a  friend¬ 
ship  of  many  years.  May  Heaven  soothe  and  reward  the  declin¬ 
ing  years  of  my  kind-hearted  friend  !  Who  knows  whether  we 
may  ever  meet  again  in  this  world  ?  We  are  setting  out  on  a 
long  and  perilous  peregrination.  He  is  separated  from  his  wife 
and  his  country.  He  endeavored  to  conceal  his  tears,  and  ours 
moistened  his  trembling  hands. 

We  halted  at  three  leagues  from  Constantinople,  to  wait  till 
the  heat  of  the  day  should  be  past.  We  had  crossed  a  tract  of 
country  full  of  undulating  hills,  overlooking  the  sea  of  Marmora. 
There  were  a  few  houses  scattered  about  the  fields,  but  no  villages. 
At  four  o’clock  we  again  resumed  our  journey,  and  after  passing 
over  some  low  and  barren  hills,  we  arrived  at  a  little  town,  where 
our  Tartars,  who  had  gone  on  before  us,  had  got  a  house  ready 
for  our  reception.  This  house  belonged  to  an  amiable  Greek 
family,  who  had  three  charming  daughters  and  some  younger 
children  of  admirable  beauty.  They  spread  carpets  and  cushions 
on  the  floor,  where  we  were  to  repose  for  the  night.  My.  cook 
contrived  to  procure  some  rice,  chickens,  and  abundance  of  vege¬ 
tables.  At  three  o’clock  next  morning,  our  caravan  was  ready 
to  move.  One  of  my  Tartars  proceeded  a  considerable  way  in 
advance  of  the  troop.  After  our  mid-day  repast,  which  we  took 
at  the  brink  of  a  fountain,  or  in  some  caravansary  hut,  he  took  my 
orders,  and  galloped  off  to  the  town  or  village  at  which  we  were 
to  sleep.  He  presented  my  letters  from  the  grand  vizier  or  pacha 
to  the  aga,  the  ayam  or  lord  of  the  village.  The  latter  selected 
the  best  Greek,  Armenian,  or  Jewish  hou  e  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  gave  the  proprietor  notice  to  prepare  it  for  strangers.  For- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


261 


age  was  then  provided  for  thirty-two  horses,  which  we  had  with 
us,  and  often  a  supper  for  ourselves.  The  ayain,  accompanied 
by  the  principal  inhabitants  and  some  cavalry  troops,  when  there 
happened  to  be  military  in  the  town,  came  to  meet  us  on  the  road, 
and  accompanied  us  to  our  quarters.  They  alighted  from  their 
horses,  conducted  us  into  the  house,  ordered  pipes  and  coffee  to  be 
served  to  us,  and  then  retired  to  their  homes,  where,  after  a  short 
time,  I  returned  their  visit. 

From  Constantinople  to  Adrianople  we  saw  nothing  remark¬ 
able,  nothing  picturesque,  except  an  immense  extent  of  plains 
without  habitations  or  trees,  intersected  by  a  river  half  dried  up, 
flowing  under  the  arches  of  a  ruined  bridge.  In  the  evening,  we 
sometimes  arrived  at  a  wretched  village,  lying  in  the  depth  of  a 
valley,  and  surrounded  by  fruit  trees.  The  "inhabitants  of  these 
villages  were  all  Greeks,  Armenians,  or  Bulgarians.  The  khans 
are  huts  almost  without  roofs,  in  which  men  and  horses  are  lodged 
together.  Our  road  continued  thus  for  several  days.  We  met 
no  one ;  it  resembled  the  desert  of  Syria.  Once  only  we  fell  in 
with  a  party  of  thirty  or  forty  Bulgarian  peasants,  dressed  like 
Europeans,  and  wearing  on  their  heads  black  sheepskin  caps. 
They  were  proceeding  to  Constantinople,  and  were  marching  to 
the  music  of  two  instruments  like  bagpipes.  On  perceiving  us, 
they  shouted  loudly,  and  ran  towards  us,  begging  for  a  few  pias¬ 
tres.  These  are  the  Savoyards  of  European  Turkey.  They 
guard  the  horses  of  the  grand  signior  and  the  pachas,  in  the 
meadows  of  the  sweet  waters  of  Asia  and  Buyukdere.  They  are 
likewise  the  gardeners  of  Stamboul. 

On  the  morning  of  the  sixth  day,  we  perceived  Adrianople, 
at  the  extremity  of  these  plains,  in  a  hollow  surrounded  by  moun¬ 
tains.  The  city  appears  immense,  and  is  commanded  by  its 
beautiful  mosque.  This  mosque  is  the  finest  religious  monument 
in  Turkey,  next  to  St.  Sophia  : — it  was  built  by  Bajazet  at  the 
time  when  Adrianople  was  the  capital  of  the  empire.  Corn,  vines, 
and  fruit  trees  of  every  kind  were  growing  in  the  fields,  to  the 
distance  of  two  leagues  round  the  city.  The  aspect  of  the  country 
reminded  me  of  Dijon  or  Lyons.  Numerous  streamlets  wind 
through  the  fields.  We  first  entered  a  long  suburb,  and  we 
passed  through  the  city  amidst  a  crowd  of  Turks,  women  and 
children,  who  thronged  round  us,  but  who,  far  from  annoying  us, 
treated  us  with  every  mark  of  respect.  The  persons  who  ad¬ 
vanced  to  meet  us,  conducted  us  to  the  door  of  a  very  fine  house 
belonging  to  M.  Veruazza,  the  Sardinian  cousul  at  Adrianople. 

12* 


VOL.  II. 


262 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Here  we  passed  two  days.  The  family  of  the  consul  were  at 
a  house  some  leagues  distant,  on  the  banks  of  the  river  Maritza 
(the  ancient  Hebrus).  In  the  evenings,  we  enjoyed  a  charming 
view  of  Adrianople  from  M.  Veruazza’s  terrace.  The  city  is 
about  as  large  as  Lyons,  and  is  watered  by  three  rivers, — the 
Hebrus,  the  Arda,  and  the  Tundicha.  It  is  completely  surrounded 
by  wood  and  water ;  and  the  fertile  valley  in  which  it  lies  is 
encircled  by  fine  chains  of  mountains.  We  visited  the  mosque, 
which  is  like  all  other  mosques,  only  more  lofty  and  spacious. 
Our  European  architecture  has  produced  nothing  more  bold, 
more  original,  or  more  effective,  than  this  monument  and  its 
minaret.  It  is  a  column  pierced  with  open-work,  on  a  stem  more 
than  a  hundred  feet  high. 

We  left  Adrianople  for  Philippopoli.  The  road  was  crossed 
by  defiles  and  valleys,  covered  with  trees,  and  smiling,  though 
deserted  between  the  high  mountains  of  Rhodophus  and  the  He- 
mus.  We  journeyed  for  three  days,  now  and  then  passing 
beautiful  villages.  When  we  were  within  three  leagues  of 
Philippopoli,  I  perceived  a  party  of  Turkish,  Armenian,  and  Greek 
horsemen  advancing  to  us  at  full  gallop.  A  handsome  young 
man,  mounted  on  a  -  superb  horse,  came  up  to  us  before  the  rest, 
and  touched  my  clothes  with  his  finger.  He  then  turned  his 
horse,  and  rode  beside  me.  He  spoke  Italian,  and  explained  to 
me  that  having  been  the  first  to  touch  me,  I  must  accept  his  house, 
however  urgent  the  others  of  his  party  might  be  to  conduct  me 
elsewhere.  The  kiaia  of  the  governor  of  Philippopoli  next  joined 
us.  Pie  complimented  me  in  the  name  of  the  governor,  who,  he 
said,  had  prepared  a  large  and  commodious  house  for  my  recep¬ 
tion,  and  that  supper  was  ready : — he  at  the  same  time  expressed 
a  hope  that  I  would  remain  some  days  in  the  city.  I  however 
determined  to  accept  the  hospitality  of  the  young  Greek,  M. 
Maurides. 

When  we  entered  Philippopoli  our  party  consisted  of  sixty 
or  eighty  horsemen.  The  people  had  assembled  in  the  streets 
and  at  their  windows  to  see  us  pass.  We  were  received  by  the 
sister  and  the  aunts  of  M.  Maurides.  The  house  was  spacious 
and  elegant,  containing  a  fine  divan,  with  four-and-twenty  win¬ 
dows,  and  furnished  in  the  European  style.  The  governor  and 
the  chiefs  of  the  people  of  different  nations  residing  in  Philip¬ 
popoli  came  to  pay  their  compliments  to  us,  and  took  coffee  with 
us.  We  passed  three  days  at  Philippopoli,  enjoying  the  liberal 
hospitality  of  M.  Maurides,  making  excursions  in  the  environs  of 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


263 


the  town,  and  receiving  and  returning  the  visits  of  the  Turks, 
Greeks,  and  Armenians. 

Philippopoli  contains  a  population  of  thirty  thousand  souls. 
It  is  four  days’  journey  from  Adrianople,  and  eight  from  Sophia. 
It  is  situated  on  the  edge  of  a  river,  on  a  little  rocky  eminence  in 
the  bosom  of  a  broad  and  fertile  valley.  It  is  one  of  the  finest 
natural  situations  for  a  city  that  can  possibly  be  conceived.  The 
hollow  in  which  the  city  is  built  is  in  the  form  of  a  crescent,  the 
two  points  of  which  are  likewise  crowned  with  houses  and  gar¬ 
dens.  The  streets  descend  in  a  winding  direction,  in  order  to  di¬ 
minish  their  slope  to  the  river,  which  flows  at  the  bottom  of  the 
valley.  The  view  of  the  bridges,  gardens,  houses,  and  large  trees, 
rising  from  the  banks  of  the  river  ;  the  wooded  plain  which  sepa¬ 
rates  the  river  from  the  mountains  of  Macedonia  ;  these  mountains 
whose  flanks  are  intersected  by  foaming  torrents,  and  studded 
with  villages  and  Greek  monasteries— -all  render  the  garden  of 
M.  Maurides  one  of  the  most  delightful  spots  in  the  world.  Phi¬ 
lippopoli  is  inhabited  by  about  equal  numbers  of  Greeks,  Arme¬ 
nians,  and  Turks.  The  Greeks  are  in  general  well  informed 
people,  and  are  actively  engaged  in  trade.  The  principal  fami¬ 
lies  send  their  children  to  be  educated  in  Hungary  :  but  this  edu¬ 
cation  only  renders  them  the  more  sensitive  to  the  oppression  of 
the  Turks.  They  sigh  for  the  independence  enjoyed  by  their 
brethren  of  the  Morea.  At  Philippopoli  I  became  acquainted  with 
three  young  Greeks,  whose  sentiments  and  energy  of  mind  ren¬ 
dered  them  worthy  of  another  fate  and  another  country. 

In  two  days  after  our  departure  from  Philippopoli,  we  reached  a 
little  town  in  a  cultivated  plain  called  Tatar  Bazargik.  It  belonged, 
together  with  the  surrounding  province,  to  one  of  those  great 
feudal  Turkish  families,  five  or  six  of  whom  have  been  respected 
by  the  sultans,  and  still  exist  in  Asia  and  Europe.  The  young 
prince  who  possesses  and  governs  Tatar  Bazargik  is  the  son  of 
the  old  Vizier,  Husseim  Pacha.  He  received  us  with  chivalrous 
hospitality,  lodging  us  in  a  newly  built  and  elegant  house  situated 
on  the  bank  of  a  river  which  flows  round  the  town.  This  house 
belonged  to  a  wealthy  Armenian.  No  sooner  were  we  installed 
in  it  than  fifteen  or  twenty  slaves  arrived,  each  bearing  a  pewter 
dish  on  his  head.  These  dishes,  which  they  laid  on  the  ground 
at  our  feet,  contained  rice,  cakes,  game,  and  sweetmeats  of  all 
kinds,  from  the  kitchens  of  the  prince  :  two  fine  horses  were  like¬ 
wise  sent  to  me  as  a  present,  which,  however  1  declined,  and  se¬ 
veral  calves  and  sheep  as  food  for  my  suite. 


264 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Next  day  we  began  to  discern  the  Balkans  before  us  those 
fine  wooded  mountains,  which  are  interspersed  with  large  villages 
and  richly  cultivated  land,  are  inhabited  by  Bulgarians.  We 
traveled  all  day  along  the  edge  of  a  torrent  which  forms  marshes 
in  the  plain.  On  reaching  the  foot  of  the  Balkans,  we  found  all  the 
principal  inhabitants  of  the  Bulgarian  village  of  Yenekeni  waiting 
for  us.  They  took  the  reins  of  our  horses,  ranged  themselves  on 
each  side  of  our  carriages,  supported  them  on  their  shoulders, 
and  occasionally  lifted  them  up  to  prevent  the  wheels  from  slip- 
ping  over  the  precipices  ;  and  in  this  manner  we  were  escorted  to 
the  miserable  village,  where  my  Tartars  had  arrived  before  us. 
The  houses,  which  are  dispersed  over  the  sides  of  two  hills,  sepa¬ 
rated  by  a  profound  ravine,  are  surrounded  by  fine  orchards  and 
meadows.  All  the  mountains  are  cultivated  at  their  base,  and 
covered  with  fine  forests  on  their  flanks:  their  summits  are  of 
rock.  The  little  Bulgarian  houses,  or  rather  huts,  are  built  of 
clay  and  roofed  with  branches  of  trees  with  their  foliage.  We 
occupied  seven  or  eight  of  them,  and  our  moukres,  Tartars,  and 
horsemen,  bivouacked  in  the  orchards.  Each  house  has  but  one 
room,  with  no  other  flooring  than  the  bare  earth.  I  was  seized 
with  an  inflammatory  fever,  brought  on  by  fatigue  and  anxiety.  I 
lay  for  twenty  days  between  life  and  death,  stretched  on  a  mat, 
in  one  of  these  miserable  hovels  without  a  window.  My  wife,  who 
attended  on  me  with  unwearied  devotedness,  never  closed  her 
eyes  for  fifteen  or  twenty  days.  She  sent  to  the  marshes  of  the 
plain  to  procure  leeches,  and  the  Bulgarians  at  length  found  some. 
Sixty  were  applied  to  my  chest  and  my  temples,  which  greatly 
relieved  me.  I  was  conscious  of  my  danger,  and  I  was  agonized 
by  the  thought  of  the  desolate  condition  in  which  my  wife  would 
be  placed  if  I  should  die  amidst  the  mountains  of  Macedonia,  four 
hundred  leagues  from  my  friends.  I  requested  M.  Capmas  to 
come  to  me,  and  I  communicated  to  him  my  last  wishes  in  the 
event  of  my  death.  J  desired  that  I  might  be  buried  under  a  tree 
which  I  had  observed  on  the  road-side  as  we  were  coming  to  the 
village,  and  that  a  single  word  should  be  inscribed  on  the  stone 
over  my  grave  :  this  word  was — God. 

On  the  sixth  day  of  the  fever,  when  the  danger  was  already 
over,  we  heard  the  sound  of  horses’  feet  entering  the  court  before 
our  house.  Several  horsemen  alighted ;  the  foremost  was  my 
kind  Greek  friend  from  Philippopoli,  M.  Maurides,  accompanied 
by  a  young  Macedonian  physician,  several  servants,  and  horses 
laden  with  provisions,  medicines,  and  furniture.  A  Tartar,  who 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


265 


had  crossed  the  Balkans  on  his  way  to  Adrianople,  had  halted  at 
Philippopoli,  where  he  related  that  a  Frank  traveler  had  been 
taken  ill,  and  was  dying  at  Yenekeni.  This  story  reached  the 
ears  of  M.  Maurides  at  ten  o’clock  one  evening. '  Immediately 
concluding  that  the  Frank  was  the  same  who  had  recently  been 
his  guest,  he  sent  for  his  friend  the  physician,  assembled  his  ser¬ 
vants,  and  loaded  his  horses  with  every  thing  which  his  charitable 
foresight  suggested  would  be  useful  to  me.  He  left  his  home  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  traveled  without  resting,  and  after  a  jour¬ 
ney  of  two  days,  arrived  at  Yenekeni,  bringing  succor  and  conso¬ 
lation  to  a  stranger  whom  he  will  never  see  again.  Such  traits 
as  this  cheer  the  heart,  and  show  that  the  generous  nature  of  man 
is  alike  in  all  places  and  in  all  climates.  M.  Maurides  found  me 
almost  convalescent.  Business  called  him  back  to  Philippopoli, 
and  he  set  off  again  the  same  day,  leaving  the  Macedonian  doctor 
in  attendance  on  me.  Pie  was  a  young  man  of  talent  and  infor¬ 
mation.  He  had  pursued  his  medical  studies  at.  Semlin  in  Plun- 
gary,  and  he  spoke  Latin.  I  however  did  not  require  his  profes¬ 
sional  aid  :  the  affection,  the  presence  of  mind,  and  the  energetic 
resolution  of  my  wife  had  enabled  her  to  render  me  all  the  assist¬ 
ance  which  my  case  required.  But  we  found  the  young  doctor’s 
society  very  agreeable,  during  the  twenty  days  we  remained  at 
Yenekeni,  before  I  recovered  sufficient  strength  to  mount  my 
horse. 

The  Prince  of  Tatar  Bazargik,  on  being  informed  of  my  ill¬ 
ness,  showed  me  no  less  kindness  and  hospitality.  Pie  every  day 
sent  sheep  and  calves  as  provisions  for  my  suite  ;  and  during  the 
whole  time  of  my  stay  at  Yenekeni,  five  or  six  horsemen  of  his 
suite  were  constantly  in  my  court-yard,  with  their  horses  saddled, 
and  ready  to  execute  my  most  trivial  commands.  On  the  few 
last  days  of  my  convalescence,  they  attended  me  in  my  rides 
through  the  magnificent  valley,  and  over  the  mountains  in  the 
environs  of  Yenekeni.  The  Prince  even  offered  me  his  slaves, 
and  on  my  departure  a  detachment  of  his  horsemen  accompanied 
me  as  far  as  the  boundaries  of  his  government.  At  Yenekeni  I 
had  an  opportunity  of  observing  the  domestic  manners  of  the  Bul¬ 
garians,  which  closely  resemble  those  of  our  Swiss  or  Savoyard 
peasantry.  They  are  a  simple,  mild,  and  laborious  people,  full 
of  respect  for  their  priests  and  zeal  for  their  religion,  which  is  that 
of  the  Greek  Church.  Their  priests,  are  like  themselves,  simple 
peasants.  The  Bulgarians  are  an  increasing  population,  now 
amounting  to  several  millions.  They  live  in  large  villages  and 


‘266 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


small  towns,  separated  from  the  Turks.  One  or  two  Turks,  del¬ 
egated  by  the  Pacha  or  the  ayam,  annually  visit  the  Bulgarian 
villages  to  collect  the  imposts  in  money.  Excepting  these,  and 
some  taxes  in  labor  and  in  kind,  they  live  unmolested  in  the  ob¬ 
servance  of  their  primitive  customs.  Their  costume  resembles 
that  of  the  peasants  of  Germany,  and  the  women  and  children 
dress  much  like  the  mountaineers  of  Switzerland.  The  women 
are  pretty,  lively  and  graceful  ;  and  their  manners  are  pure, 
though  they  have  laid  aside  the  veil  of  the  Turkish  females,  and 
freely  associate  with  the  men.  I  saw  some  of  the  rustic  dances 
of  the  Bulgarians,  which  are  similar  to  those  of  our  French  vil¬ 
lagers.  These  people  despise  and  hate  the  Turks,  and  are  com¬ 
pletely  ripe  for  independence.  They  form,  with  their  neighbors 
the  Servians,  the  basis  of  the  future  states  of  European  Turkey. 
The  countries  which  they  inhabit  might  soon  become  richly  cul¬ 
tivated,  if  the  blind  and  stupid  oppression,  not  of  the  Turkish 
government,  but  its  delegates,  would  allow  the  people  to  prose¬ 
cute  their  taste  for  agriculture  with  a  greater  degree  of  security. 

I  left  Yenekeni  and  its  amiable  inhabitants  with  regret :  it  is 
a  delicious  summer  residence.  All  the  people  of  the  village  ac¬ 
companied  us  to  the  distance  of  a  league  oil  the  Balkans,  and 
loaded  us  with  kind  wishes  and  benedictions.  We  crossed  the 
first  Balkan  in  a  day.  These  mountains  are  nearly  similar  to 
those  of  Auvergne,  being  in  almost  every  part  accessible  and  ca¬ 
pable  of  cultivation.  Five  hundred  workmen  might  make  a  fine 
carriage-road  over  them  in  the  space  of  a  year.  In  three  days 
we  reached  Sophia,  a  large  city  in  an  interior  plain  watered  by 
a  river.  A  Turkish  pacha  resides  in  it.  He  sent  his  kiaia  to 
meet  us,  and  assigned  to  my  use  the  house  of  a  Greek  merchant. 

I  spent  one  day  in  this  town  :  the  pacha  sent  me  calves  and 
sheep,  and  would  not  accept  any  present  in  return.  The  town  of 
Sophia  presents  nothing  remarkable. 

After  four  short  journeys,  sometimes  across  mountains  of  easy 
access,  and  sometimes  through  valleys  and  fertile  though  uninhabit¬ 
ed  plains,  we  arrived  at  Nissa,  the  last  Turkish  town,  almost  on 
the  frontier  of  Servia.  I  proceeded  on  horseback  a  little  distance 
in  advance  of  the  caravan  :  the  sun  was  scorching.  When  I  was 
about  a  league  from  the  town,  I  saw  a  large  tower  rising  in  the 
midst  of  the  plain,  as  white  as  Parian  marble.  I  took  the  path  which 
led  to  it,  and  having  approached  it,  I  desired  a  Turkish  lad,  who 
accompanied  me,  to  hold  my  horse;  and  I  sat  down  unler  the 
shade  of  the  tower  to  enjoy  a  few  moments  repose.  No  sooner 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


267 


was  I  seated  than,  raising  my  eyes  to  the  monument,  I  discovered 
that  the  walls,  which  I  supposed  to  be  built  of  marble  or  white 
stone,  were  composed  of  regular  rows  of  human  skulls :  these 
skulls,  bleached  by  the  rain  and  the  sun,  and  cemented  by  a  little 
sand  and  lime,  formed  entirely  the  triumphal  arch  which  now 
sheltered  me  from  the  heat  of  the  sun :  there  might  be  from 
fifteen  to  twenty  thousand.  In  some  places  portions  of  hair  were 
still  hanging ;  and  waved,  like  lichen  or  moss,  with  every  breath 
of  wind.  The  mountain  breeze,  which  was  then  blowing  fresh, 
penetrated  the  innumerable  cavities  of  the  skulls,  and  sounded 
like  mournful  and  plaintive  sighs. 

There  was  no  one  near  who  could  give  me  any  account  of 
this  horrible  monument.  The  boy,  who  was  holding  the  two 
horses  by  the  bridles,  was  playing  with  little  fragments  of  the 
skulls,  which  had  crumbled  off  and  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  tower. 

I  was  so  overcome  by  fatigue  and  heat  that  I  fell  asleep,  resting 
my  head  against  these  walls  of  decapitated  heads.  On  awaken¬ 
ing,  I  found  myself  surrounded  by  the  caravan,  and  a  number  of 
Turkish  horsemen,  who  had  come  from  Nissa  to  escort  us  into 
the  town.  They  informed  me  that  the  skulls  were  those  of  fifteen 
thousand  Servians,  who  had  been  put  to  death  by  the  pacha  in 
the  last  insurrection  of  Servia.  This  plain  was  the  death-bed  of 
these  brave  insurgents,  and  this  monument  was  their  sepulchre. 

I  paid  my  tribute  of  respect  to  the  memory  of  these  heroic  men, 
whose  decapitated  heads  are  the  boundary  of  the  independence 
of  their  country. 

Servia,  which  we  were  about  to  enter,  is  now  free ;  and  it  is 
the  song  of  liberty  and  glory  which  is  resounded  by  the  moun¬ 
tain  breeze  playing  among  the  bones  of  the  Servians  who  perished 
for  their  country  !  They  will  soon  possess  Nissa.  Let  them  re¬ 
spect  this  sacred  monument ;  it  will  teach  their  children  the 
value  of  independence,  by  showing  them  the  price  at  which  their 
forefathers  purchased  it. 

Nissa  is  like  Sophia — it  has  nothing  characteristic.  We  pass¬ 
ed  one  day  there.  On  leaving  Nissa,  we  entered  the  beautiful 
mountains  and  forests  of  Servia.  These  virgin  forests  extend  in 
every  direction  as  far  as  the  horizon,  being  intersected  only  by 
a  wide  road,  recently  made  by  Prince  Milosch,  the  independent 
chief  of  Servia.  For  six  days  we  were  buried  beneath  these 
magnificent  and  uninterrupted  shades,  seeing  nothing  but  endless 
colonnades  formed  by  the  trunks  of  enormous  beech-trees,  waves 
of  foliage  agitated  by  the  winds,  and  hills  and  mountains  uniform¬ 
ly  clothed  with  centenary  oaks. 


268 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


At  intervals  of  about  every  five  or  six  leagues,  on  descending 
into  a  valley,  we  saw  villages  containing  newly-built  wooden 
houses  just  emerged  from  the  forests,  a  little  church,  and  the 
dwelling  of  a  priest,  standing  on  the  margin  of  a  river,  or  among 
meadows  and  fields  of  melons.  The  inhabitants,  seated  on  wooden 
divans  in  front  of  their  shops,  were  pursuing  their  different  occu¬ 
pations.  Their  countenances,  though  mild  and  amiable,  have  a 
dash  of  northern  energy  and  pride,  which  denotes  a  people  already 
free  and  worthy  to  continue  so.  We  were  every  where  re¬ 
ceived  with  hospitality  and  respect,  always  having  the  best  house 
in  the  village  assigned  to  us.  The  clergyman  came  and  con¬ 
versed  with  us.  The  houses  now  began  to  show  some  traces  of 
European  furniture.  The  women  were  no  longer  veiled;  and 
we  met  in  the  meadows  and  the  woods  parties  of  young  men  and 
girls  going  to  labor  together  in  the  fields,  and  singing  airs  simi¬ 
lar  to  the  Ranz  des  Vaches.  These  girls  were  dressed  in  a 
bodice  gathered  in  numerous  plaits  round  their  shoulders  and 
bosoms,  and  a  short  petticoat  of  brown  or  red  woollen  stuff. 
Their  freshness,  their  gayety,  and  the  clearness  of  their  eyes,  re¬ 
minded  us  of  the  beautiful  females  of  Berne,  or  the  mountains  of 
Lucerne. 

Here  our  faithful  companions  of  all  the  konaks  of  Turkey 
forsook  us.  We  no  longer  saw  the  storks,  whose  large  nests,  like 
cradles  of  reeds,  crowned  the  tops  of  all  the  mosque  domes  in 
European  Turkey,  and  formed  a  roof- work  to  the  ruined  minarets. 
Every  evening,  on  arriving  in  the  villages  or  the  desert  khans, 
we  saw  these  birds,  two  by  two,  hovering  over  our  tents  or  our 
huts,  the  young  ones  stretching  their  long  necks  out  of  the  nest 
like  serpents,  and  holding  their  beaks  to  the  mother  bird,  who, 
half-suspended  on  her  broad  wings,  shared  with  them  the  food 
she  had  brought  from  the  neighboring  marshes  ;  the  male  bird, 
hovering  at  a  considerable  height  above  the  nest,  looked  down 
apparently  gratified  by  the  interesting  sight.  These  beautiful 
birds  are  by  no  means  wild  :  they  are  the  guardians  of  the  roof, 
as  the  dogs  are  the  guardians  of  the  door.  They  live  in  harmony 
with  the  clouds  of  white  turtle-doves  which  cover  the  domes  of 
all  the  khans  and  mosques,  and  they  do  not  even  scare  the  swal¬ 
lows.  The  Turks  themselves  live  in  peace  with  all  the  animate 
and  inanimate  creation— trees,  birds,  or  dogs  ;  they  respect  every 
thing  that  God  has  made.  They  extend  their  humanity  to  those 
inferior  animals  which  are  neglected  or  persecuted  among  us. 
In  all  the  streets  there  are,  at  certain  distances,  vessels  filled  with 


A.  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


269 


water  for  the  dogs,  and  sometimes  on  their  death-beds  the  Mussul¬ 
mans  leave  legacies  fcr  feeding  the  doves  which  they  have  tended 
during  life. 

September  2,  1833. 

This  morning  we  issued  from  the  eternal  forests  of  Servia, 
which  extend  as  far  as  the  banks  of  the  Danube.  The  point 
where  that  king  of  rivers  becomes  first  discernible,  is  a  hill  cov¬ 
ered  with  superb  oaks.  Having  crossed  it,  we  beheld  at  our  feet 
what  seemed  like  a  vast  lake  of  blue  and  limpid  water,  surround¬ 
ed  by  trees  and  rushes,  and  besprinkled  with  verdant  islands. 
As  we  advaneed,  we  saw  the  river  extend  on  the  right  and  left, 
flowing  close  to  the  wooded  hills  on  the  boundary  of  Servia,  and 
then  losing  itself  on  the  right  in  the  plains  of  Hungary.  The 
last  slopes  of  the  forest  descending  to  the  river,  present  the  most 
magnificent  point  of  view  in  the  whole  world.  We  slept  in  a 
little  Servian  village  on  the  banks  of  the  Danube. 

Next  day  we  again  lost  sight  of  the  river  for  about  four  hours. 
The  country,  like  all  frontier  places,  is  uncultivated  and  deserted. 
Towards  noon  we  ascended  some  barren  hills,  whence  we  at 
length  discovered  Belgrade  lying  at  our  feet.  This  city,  which 
has  sustained  so  many  sieges,  is  situated  on  an  elevated  bank  of 
the  Danube.  The  roofs  of  its  mosques  are  pierced  by  bomb¬ 
shells,  its  walls  are  shattered,  and  its  desolate  suburbs  are  be¬ 
sprinkled  with  huts  and  heaps  of  ruins.  The  streets,  like  those 
of  all  Turkish  towns,  descend  in  narrow  windings  to  the  river. 
Semlin,  the  first  Hungarian  town,  glitters  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  Danube,  in  all  the  glory  of  a  European  city.  Its  church 
steeples  rise  in  the  very  face  of  the  minarets. 

On  our  arrival  in  Belgrade,  whilst  we  were  reposing  in  a 
little  inn,  the  first  place  of  the  kind  1  had  met  with  in  Turkey, 
Prince  Milosch  sent  several  of  his  principal  officers  to  invite  me 
to  spend  a  few  days  in  the  fortress  in  which  he  resides,  at  a  few 
leagues  from  Belgrade.  I  however  declined  the  invitation,  and 
ordered  boats  for  crossing  the  Danube.  At  four  o’clock,  just  as 
we  were  about  to  embark,  we  saw  a  group  of  horsemen,  dressed 
very  much  in  the  European  style,  hurrying  to  the  water  side. 
This  was  the  brother  of  Prince  Milosch,  the  chief  of  the  Servi¬ 
ans,  who  had  come  on  the  part  of  the  prince  to  renew  the  invita¬ 
tion  to  pass  a  few  days  with  him.  i  very  much  regretted  that 
I  was  unable  to  accept  hospitality  so  kindly  offered  ;  but  my 
traveling  companion,  M.  de  Capmas,  had  been  for  several  days 
seriously  ill  ;  and  it  was  important  that  he  should  enjoy  the  rest 


270 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


and  the  resources  afforded  by  a  European  city,  and  the  aid  of  the 
physicians  of  a  lazaretto.  I  conversed  for  about  an  hour  with 
the  Servian  chief,  who  appeared  to  be  an  amiable  and  well- 
informed  man.  I  greeted  him  as  the  pledge  of  the  future  civili¬ 
zation  and  independence  of  his  noble  nation,  and  at  length  I 
stepped  into  the  boat  which  was  to  convey  me  to  Semlin. 

We  were  about  an  hour  in  crossing  the  Danube,  which  is 
very  broad  and  deep,  and  its  waves  are  as  rough  as  those  of  the 
sea.  At  length  we  reached  the  meadows  and  orchards  which  sur¬ 
round  Semlin.  At  three  in  the  afternoon  we  entered  the  lazaret¬ 
to,  where  we  were  to  remain  ten  days.  To  each  of  us  were  as¬ 
signed  an  apartment,  and  a  little  yard  planted  with  trees.  I  dis¬ 
missed  my  Tartars,  my  moukres,  and  my  dragomans,  who  set  off 
on  their  return  to  Constantinople.  They  all  sorrowfully  kissed 
our  hands ;  and  I  could  not  without  deep  emotion  and  gratitude 
part  from  these  faithful  and  generous  attendants,  who  had  guided, 
served,  and  guarded  us  with  the  affection  of  brothers,  and  who  du¬ 
ring  the  innumerable  vicissitudes  of  an  eighteen  months’  journey 
through  foreign  lands,  proved  to  me  that  all  religions  have  their 
divine  moral,  and  civilizations  their  virtue,  and  all  men  the  senti¬ 
ment  of  the  just,  the  good,  and  the  beautiful,  engraven  in  various 
characters  in  their  hearts  by  the  hand  of  God. 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


271 


NOTES  ON  SERYIA. 


Semlin,  12th  September,  Lazaretto. 

No  sooner  had  I  quitted  those  forests  in  which  a  new  and  free 
people  are  taking  root,  than  I  felt  regret  at  not  knowing  them 
more  thoroughly.  I  could  have  desired  to  have  lived  and  fought 
with  them  for  their  dawning  independence ;  to  have  searched  out 
their  origin,  and  the  destiny  which  Providence  is  preparing  for 
their  virtues.  I  have  before  me  the  scene  of  Tagodina : — We 
were  admiring  in  a  Servian  cottage  a  young  mother  who  was 
nursing  her  twins,  while  her  third  child  at  her  feet  was  playing 
with  theyatagan  of  his  father.  The  papa  of  the  village  and  some 
of  the  principal  inhabitants  were  in  a  circle  around  us,  detailing 
with  simplicity  and  enthusiasm  the  growing  happiness  of  the  na¬ 
tion  under  this  government  of  liberty — forests  becoming  cleared, 
wooden  houses  multiplying  in  the  valleys,  numerous  schools  filled 
with  children,  opening  in  all  the  villages.  Every  one  of  these 
men,  raising  his  head  over  the  shoulders  of  those  that  were  before 
him,  presented  an  aspect  proud  and  gratified  at  the  admiration  we 
expressed  ;  their  eye  was  animated,  and  their  countenance  glow¬ 
ed  with  emotion  for  their  country,  as  if  the  general  glory  and  lib¬ 
erty  had  been  the  proud  act  of  each  individual.  At  this  instant 
the  husband  of  the  fair  Servian  with  whom  we  were  lodged,  re¬ 
turned  from  the  fields,  and  approaching,  saluted  us  with  that  re¬ 
spect,  and  at  the  same  time  dignity  of  manner,  natural  to  a  wild 
people  ;  he  then  mixed  among  the  villagers,  and  listened  lijve  the 
rest  to  the  recital  the  papa  was  giving  us  of  their  battles  for  inde¬ 
pendence.  When  the  papa  was  come  to  the  battle  of  Nissa,  and 
the  thirty  pairs  of  colors  taken  from  forty  thousand  Turks  by  three 
thousand  Mountaineers,  the  father  springing  from  the  midst  of  the 
circle,  took  from  the  arms  of  his  wife  his  two  beauteous  infants, 
and  lifting  them  up,  exclaimed,  “Behold  the  soldiers  of  Milosch  ! 
So  long  as  our  women  are  prolific,  will  there  be  free  Servians  in 
the  forests  of  Schumadia.” 


272 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


The  history  of  this  people  exists  only  in  popular  verses,  like 
all  the  primitive  histories  of  heroic  tribes.  These  songs  of  a  na¬ 
tional  enthusiasm,  the  promptings  of  the  field  of  battle,  repeated 
from  rank  to  rank  by  the  soldiers,  and  reaching  the  villages  at 
the  end  of  the  campaign,  are  there  preserved  by  tradition.  The 
curate  or  the  schoolmaster  commits  them  to  writing  ;  simple  airs, 
but  animated  like  the  hearts  of  the  combatants,  or  like  the  voice 
of  the  father  saluting;  from  afar  the  smoke  from  the  roof  of  his 

<T> 

children,  accompany  them  ;  they  become  the  popular  history  of 
the  nation.  Prince  Milosch  has  had  two  collections  of  them  print¬ 
ed,  that  were  scattered  throughout  the  country.  The  infant 
Sclavonian  learns  to  lisp  in  these  touching  recitals  the  exploits  of 
his  fathers,  and  the  name  of  the  deliverer  of  Servia  is  stamped  in 
his  earliest  recollections.  A  people  imbibing  such  aliment  can 
never  again  be  enslaved.  I  have  often  met  in  the  midst  of  these 
virgin  forests,  and  in  the  deepest  gorges,  where  no  other  inhabit¬ 
ants  than  the  wild  beasts  could  be  suspected  to  dwell,  groups  of 
boys  and  girls  walking  and  singing  together  these  national  airs,  of 
which  our  interpreters  gave  us  occasional  translations.  They 
would  for  a  moment  suspend  their  singing  to  salute  us  and  see  us 
pass  ;  and  when  we  were  out  of  sight,  renew  their  walk  and  their 
airs,  while  the  gloomy  canopy  of  aged  oaks  and  the  rocks  border¬ 
ing  the  torrent  long  re-echoed  the  chants,  with  their  sustained 
notes  and  monotonous  burdens,  which  augur  a  lasting  happiness 
to  the  land.  “What  are  they  saying?”  cried  I  one  day  to  our 
dragoman,  who  understood  their  language.  “  Hospodar,”  replied 
he,  “  they  are  saying  such  silly  things  that  it  is  hardly  worth 
while  to  repeat  them  to  Franks.”  “But  let  us  hear;  translate 
what  they  are  singing  at  this  moment.”  “  Well  then,  they  are 
saying,  £  May  God  bless  the  waters  of  the  Morawa,  for  they  have 
drowned  the  enemies  of  the  Servians  !  May  God  multiply  the  acorn 
on  the  oaks  of  Schumadia,  for  each  of  these  trees  is  a  Servian  !’  ” 
“  And  what  do  they  mean  by  that  ?”  “  Hospodar,  they  mean  that 

during  the  war  the  Servians  found  a  rampart  behind  the  trunk  of 
their  oaks  ;  their  forests  were  and  still  are  their  fortresses  ;  every 
one  of  these  trees  is  as  a  comrade  in  fight;  they  love  them  like 
brothers  ;  so,  when  Prince  Milosch,  their  present  governor,  order¬ 
ed  so  many  trees  to  be  cut  down  through  the  forests,  to  mark  out 
the  long  road  we  are  tracking,  the  old  Servians  often  gave  him  a 
curse.  ‘  Cut  down  the  oaks?’  said  thev,  ‘  it  is  murder  against 
men.  In  Servia,  man  and  the  oak  are  friends.” 

In  traversing  these  magnificent  solitudes,  where  through  many 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


273 


a  day’s  journey  the  eye,  withersoever  it  glances,  perceives  only  a 
uniform  and  sombre  undulation  of  leaves  of  the  oaks,  which  cover 
mountain  and  valley,  a  very  ocean  of  foliage,  unpenetrated  even 
by  the  sharp  point  of  minaret  or  steeple,  descending  from  time  to 
time  into  deep  ravines,  in  which  roared  the  torrent ;  and  where 
the  forest  gave  place  to  a  few  well-cultivated  fields,  to  some  pretty 
wooden  houses  newly  built,  saw-pits,  and  mills  erected  at  the 
water’s  edge  ;  seeing  immense  flocks  conducted  by  young  and 
handsome  damsels  elegantly  attired,  emerging  from  colonnades  of 
lofty  trees,  and  returning  at  night  to  their  dwellings — children 
leaving  school — the  papa  seated  on  his  wooden  bench  by  the  door 
of  his  pretty  house,  and  old  men  entering  the  common  house,  or 
the  church,  to  deliberate  together — I  fancied  myself  in  the  midst 
of  the  North  American  forests,  at  the  instant  of  the  birth  of  a 
nation  or  the  settlement  of  a  new  colony.  The  appearance  of 
the  men  gave  evidence  of  gentleness  of  manners — of  the  polish  of 
an  early  civilization — of  healthiness  and  competence  ;  liberty  is 
written  in  the  expression  of  their  countenances.  The  Bulgarian 
is  good  and  simple  ;  but,  though  on  the  point  of  becoming  free,  the 
marks  of  his  yoke  are  still  apparent ;  there  is  in  the  movement 
of  his  head,  in  the  accent  of  his  tongue,  and  in  the  humble  re¬ 
signation  of  his  look,  a  discernible  recollection  and  apprehension 
of  the  Turk  ;  he  reminds  one  of  the  Savoyard,  that  good  inhabit¬ 
ant  of  the  Alps,  who  fails  in  nothing  but  the  dignity  of  physiog¬ 
nomy  and  speech,  which  ennoble  every  other  virtue.  The  Servian, 
on  the  contrary,  calls  to  one’s  mind  the  Swiss  of  the  little  Cantons, 
where  pure  and  patriarchal  manners  characterize  the  bearing  of 
the  shepherd,  harmonizing  with  the  liberty  which  makes  the  man, 
and  the  cool  courage  which  marks  the  hero.  The  girls  resemble 
the  beautiful  women  of  the  Cantons  of  Lucerne  and  Berne ;  their 
costume  is  very  similar;  short  petticoats  of  a  bright  color,  and 
hair  formed  into  long  plaits,  reaching  almost  to  their  heels.  Their 
manners  are  pure,  like  those  of  all  religious  pastoral  tribes.  Their 
language,  like  all  those  derived  from  the  Sclavonic,  possesses  har¬ 
mony  and  a  musical  cadence;  there  exists  little  inequality  of  for¬ 
tune  among  them,  but  a  general  competence  ;  their  only  luxury 
is  in  their  arms ;  their  present  government  is  a  sort  of  represen¬ 
tative  dictatorship.  Prince  Milosch,  the  liberator  of  Servia,  has 
preserved  the  discretionary  power  which  was  vested  in  him  dur¬ 
ing  the  war.  Proclaimed  Prince  of  the  Servians  (1829),  the 
people  have  sworn  fealty  to  him  and  his  successors.  The  Turks, 
who  still  participate  in  the  administration,  and  in  the  garrison  of 


274 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


the  fortresses,  have  also  acknowledged  him,  and  treat  with  him 
directly ;  he  has  established  a  senate  and  deliberative  district  as¬ 
semblies,  which  concur  in  the  discussion  and  decision  of  public 
affairs ;  the  senate  is  convoked  annually  ;  the  village  deputies 
are  assembled  near  the  residence  of  the  prince,  and  their  meetings 
are  held,  as  in  the  heroic  ages,  under  lofty  trees.  The  prince 
comes  down  from  his  seat,  advances  towards  each  of  the  deputies, 
interrogates  him,  listens  to  his  answers,  takes  note  of  his  complaints 
or  his  advice,  speaks  to  him  of  affairs,  explains  with  kindness  his 
policy,  justifies  the  measures  which  may  have  appeared  severe  or 
unjust ;  every  thing  is  conducted  with  the  generous  and  grave  fa¬ 
miliarity  of  countrymen  conversing  with  their  lords.  They  are 
indeed  armed  patriarchal  husbandmen.  The  thought  of  God  at¬ 
tends  their  councils  as  it  does  their  battles  ;  they  fight,  they  govern, 
for  their  altars,  as  for  their  forests.  But  their  priests  exercise 
their  influence  only  in  matters  of  religion.  The  principal  influ¬ 
ence  is  held  by  the  military  chiefs,  a  hereditary  nobility,  whom 
they  style  vaivods.  Sacerdotal  domination  commences  only  when 
war  has  ceased,  and  when  the  possession  of  a  country  is  securely 
vested  in  its  population.  Till  that  time  arrives,  the  country  yields 
the  highest  honors  to  its  defenders,  and  afterwards  honors  its  civ¬ 
ilizers. 

The  Servian  population  at  present  amounts  to  about  a  million 
of  men,  and  is  rapidly  increasing.  The  mildness  of  the  climate, 
like  that  of  France,  between  Lyons  and  Avignon  ;  the  fertility  of 
the  deep  and  virgin  soil,  covered  with  a  vegetation  like  that  of  the 
meadows  of  Switzerland  ;  the  numerous  rivers  and  rivulets  which 
fall  from  the  mountains,  flow  through  the  valleys,  and  form  here 
and  there  lakes  in  the  midst  of  the  woods  ;  the  clearing  of  the 
woods,  which,  as  in  America,  will  give  space  for  the  plough,  and 
furnish  inexhaustible  materials  for  building  ;  the  pure  and  gentle 
manners  of  the  people  ;  wise  laws,  catching  a  strong  reflection 
from  the  best  European  legislation ;  the  rights  of  the  citizens,  se¬ 
cured  by  local  representation,  and  deliberative  assemblies  ;  and, 
finally,  the  supreme  power  lodged,  in  adequate  proportion,  in  the 
hands  of  a  man  worthy  of  his  high  mission,  Prince  Milosch,  who 
is  to  transmit  it  to  his  descendants  ; — all  these  elements  of  peace, 
prosperity,  and  civilization,  promise  to  augment  the  Servian  popu¬ 
lation  by  many  millions  before  the  lapse  of  another  half  century. 
If  this  people,  as  he  desires  and  hopes,  should  become  the  nucleus 
of  a  new  empire,  by  its  union  with  Bosina,  part  of  Bulgaria,  and 
the  warlike  hordes  of  the  Montenegrins,  Europe  will  see  a  new 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  T11E  HOLY  LAM). 


275 


empire  arise  on  the  ruins  of  Turkey,  occupying  those  vast  and 
noble  regions  extending  between  the  Adriatic  and  the  lofty  ridge 
of  the  Balkan.  If  diversity  of  manners  and  nationality  should  too 
far  oppose  such  a  fusion,  we  see  in  Servia  at  least  one  of  the  ele¬ 
ments  of  that  confederacy  of  European  states,  or  protectorates, 
destined  to  fill  the  void  which  the  disappearance  of  the  Ottoman 
empire  is  about  to  leave  in  Europe  as  well  as  in  Asia.  Euro¬ 
pean  interests  require  no  other  alternative. 

September  25,  1833. 

The  history  of  this  people  should  be  sung,  not  written.  It 
forms  an  epic  poem  not  yet  complete.  I  have  collected  the  prin¬ 
cipal  materials  on  the  spot,  from  the  mouth  of  our  friends,  who 
come  to  visit  us  at  the  gate  of  the  Lazaretto.  Seated  beneath  a 
linden  tree  on  the  grass,  on  which  beams  the  clear  and  mild  sun 
of  the  country,  by  the  murmuring  of  the  rapid  stream  of  the  Dan¬ 
ube,  in  sight  of  its  noble  banks,  and  of  the  green  forests  which 
form  the  ramparts  of  Servia  on  this  side  of  Hungary,  these  men 
in  their  half-oriental  costume,  with  the  masculine  yet  gentle  coun¬ 
tenances  of  a  martial  race,  are  recounting  to,  me,  with  simple 
truth,  the  feats  in  which  they  have  so  largely  shared.*  Although 
still  young,  and  covered  with  wounds,  they  seem  to  have  entirely 
forgotten  war  ;  and  to  be  thinking  only  of  public  education,  of 
schools  for  the  people,  of  improvements  in  the  rural  and  adminis¬ 
trative  departments,  of  advancement  in  the  science  of  legislation  : 
equally  modest  and  zealous,  they  avail  themselves  of  every  op¬ 
portunity  to  perfect  their  dawning  institutions  ;  they  interrogate 
travelers,  and  detain  them  as  long  as  possible  amongst  them,  to 
obtain  all  the  information  thus  providentially  sent  them  from  afar. 

The  following  are  the  facts,  I  learned,  that  had  occurred  du¬ 
ring  these  latter  years.  It  was  about  the  year  1304,  after  a  se¬ 
ries  of  commotions  stirred  up  by  Paswanoglou,  Pacha  of  Widin, 
and  which  had  ended  in  the  supremacy  of  the  Janissaries,  that 
the  Servians  rose  up  against  their  tyrants  :  three  chiefs  combined 
together  in  the  central  part  of  Servia,  called  Schumadia,  an  im¬ 
mense  region  covered  with  impenetrable  forests.  The  first  of 

*  I  have  since  received  more  circumstantial  and  authentic  details  on  the 
history  of  modern  Servia  ;  and  I  owe  to  the  kindness  of  a  traveler  who  preceded 
me,  and  whom  I  met  at  Jaffa,  M.  Adolphus  de  Caraman,  the  communication 
of  his  note  on  Servia,  which  he  had  made  during  his  residence  with  Prince 
Milosch.  These  notes,  more  worthy  than  mine,  from  the  talent  and  accuracy 
with  which  they  are  taken,  were  accompanied  by  a  translation  of  the  History 
of  the  Servians,  by  a  Servian. 


276 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


these  chieftains  was  Kara-George ;  the  two  others,  Tanko-Ka- 
lisch,  and  Wasso-Tcharapitsch.  Kara-George  had  been  a  hey- 
duke.  The  heydukes  were  in  Servia,  what  the  klephts  were  in 
Greece,  a  race  of  independent  adventurers  living  in  inaccessible 
mountains,  and  descending  at  the  least  signal  of  war  to  take  part 
in  the  struggles  of  faction,  and  keep  up  their  habits  of  bloodshed 
and  plunder.  All  the  country  arose  following  the  example  of 
Schumadia  ;  every  canton  chose  for  its  leader  the  bravest  and 
most  distinguished  of  its  vaivods,  and  these  in  a  council  of  war 
conferred  the  title  of  generalissimo  on  Kara-George.  This  title 
gave  but  little  power;  but  in  times  of  danger,  genius  quickly 
assigns  to  the  resolute  man  a  real  sovereignty.  Danger  never 
bargains  with  courage  :  obedience  is  felt  as  a  natural  instinct 
towards  decision  and  talent. 

George  Petrovvistsch,  surnamed  Kara  or  Zrin,  that  is  to  say 
George  the  Black,  was  born  in  1765  in  a  village  of  the  district 
of  Kraguzewatz.  His  father  was  a  simple  peasant  and  shep¬ 
herd,  named  Petroni.  .  Another  tradition  states  that  Kara-George 
was  born  in  France,  but  this  is  by  no  means  probable.  Petroni 
carried  his  son,  while  yet  a  child,  to  the  mountains  of  Topoli. 
The  insurrection  of  1787,  which  was  to  have  been  aided  by  Aus¬ 
tria,  having  ended  unfavorably,  the  insurgents,  pursued  by  the 
Turks  and  the  Bosniacs,  were  obliged  to  take  to  flight.  Petroni 
and  George  his  son,  who  had  already  fought  bravely,  collected 
their  flocks,  their  only  riches,  and  proceeded  towards  the  Save  ; 
they  were  already  close  to  the  river,  and  were  on  the  point  of 
finding  safety  on  the  Austrian  territory,  when  the  father  of  Kara- 
George,  an  old  man  borne  down  by  years,  and  more  devoted  than 
his  son  to  the  soil  of  his  country,  turned  back,  looked  upon  the 
mountains  where  he  had  left  all  the  recollections  of  his  life,  felt 
his  heart  torn  at  the  idea  of  quitting  them  for  ever  to  live  amongst 
an  unknown  people,  and,  sitting  on  the  ground,  conjured  his  son 
to  submit  rather  than  go  forward  into  Germany.  I  regret  my 
inability  to  relate  from  memory  the  touching  and  animated  sup¬ 
plications  of  the  old  man  as  they  are  sung  in  the  popular  stan¬ 
zas  of  Servia.  It  is  one  of  those  scenes  in  which  the  sentiments 
of  nature,  so  strongly  felt,  and  so  simply  expressed  by  the  genius 
of  a  rising  people,  surpass  all  that  the  invention  of  enlightened 
nations  can  borrow  from  art.  The  Bible  and  Homer  alone  pos¬ 
sess  such  passages. 

Kara-George,  however,  affected  at  first  by  the  regrets  and 
entreaties  of  his  father,  had  ordered  his  servants  with  the  flocks 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


277 


to  return.  Devoted  to  the  rigorous  duty  of  filial  obedience — a 
point  of  religion  among  the  Eastern  nations — he  hung  down  his 
head  at  the  voice  of  his  father,  and  was  about  sorrowfully  to  re¬ 
turn  on  the  road  of  slavery,  that  the  bones  of  Petroni  might  not 
be  deprived  of  a  Servian  grave,  when  the  shouts  and  the  shots  of 
the  Bosniacs  announced  the  approach  of  their  enemies  and  the 
inevitable  punishment  about  to  glut  their  vengeance.  “Father,” 
said  he,  “decide ;  we  have  but  a  moment ;  rise,  throw  yourself 
into  the  river  ;  my  arm  shall  support  you,  my  body  shall  cover 
you  from  the  balls  of  the  Osmanlis ;  you  will  live,  you  will 
await  happier  days  in  the  land  of  a  friendly  people.”  But  the 
inflexible  old  man,  whom  his  sons  vainly  endeavored  to  raise, 
resisted  his  efforts,  and  resolved  to  die  on  the  soil  of  his  country. 
Kara-George,  in  despair,  and  unwilling  that  the  body  of  his  father 
should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  Turks,  fell  on  his  knees,  begged 
the  old  man’s  blessing,  killed  him  with  a  pistol  shot,  threw  him 
into  the  Save,  and  himself  swam  over  into  the  Austrian  terri¬ 
tory. 

A  short  time  after,  he  returned  to  Servia  as  serjeant-major  of 
a  free  corps.  Dissatisfied  at  not  having  been  included  in  a  distri¬ 
bution  of  honorary  medals,  he  quitted  the  corps,  and  retired  as  a 
heyduke  into  the  mountains  :  becoming  reconciled  with  his  chief, 
he  accompanied  him  into  Austria  when  peace  was  concluded,  and 
obtained  a  place  as  forest-guard  in  the  monastery  of  Krushedal. 
Soon  wearied  with  this  sort  of  life,  he  returned  to  Servia,  under 
the  government  of  Hadji-Mustafa.  He  again  became  a  shepherd, 
but  he  took  up  arms  whenever  a  new  tumult  disturbed  any  part 
of  the  country. 

Kara-George  was  of  a  lofty  stature,  a  robust  constitution,  and 
a  noble  and  open  countenance.  Silent  and  thoughtful  when  he 
was  neither  elevated  by  wine,  nor  the  report  of  firing,  nor  the  con¬ 
tradictions  of  councils,  he  would  remain  a  whole  day  long  without 
uttering  a  word. 

Almost  all  men  who  either  have  achieved  or  are  destined  to 
achieve  great  acts,  are  sparing  of  their  words.  Their  discourse 
is  within  themselves,  they  dwell  in  their  own  thoughts,  and  from 
these  inward  musings  they  draw  forth  that  energy  of  intelligence 
and  action  which  constitutes  the  great  man.  Napoleon  became  a 
boaster  when  his  destiny  was  fulfilled  and  his  fortune  on  its  de¬ 
cline. _ Kara-George,  the  rigid  defender  of  justice  and  order,  had 

his  own  brother  hanged  for  having  attempted  the  honor  of  a  young 

girK 

YOL.  II. 


278 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


It  was  in  January  of  1806,  that  several  armies  penetrated  at 
the  same  time  into  Servia.  Bekir,  the  pacha  of  Bosnia,  and  Ibra¬ 
him,  pacha  of  Scutari,  received  orders  from  the  Porte  to  direct 
thither  all  their  forces ;  Bekir  sent  forward  two  corps  of  about 
forty  thousand  men,  Ibrahim  advanced  from  Nissa  at  the  head  of 
a  formidable  army.  Kara-George,  with  forces  numerically  very 
inferior,  but  animated  by  an  invincible  patriotism,  full  of  confi¬ 
dence  in  their  chiefs,  and  protected  by  forests  which  covered  their 
movements,  repulsed  all  the  partial  attacks  of  Bekir  and  Ibrahim. 
After  having,  near  Petska,  cut  to  pieces  Hadji  Bey,  he  marched 
against  the  principal  army,  which  was  retiring  upon  Schabaz, 
overtook  it  and  completetely  routed  it  at  Schabaz,  the  8th  of  Au¬ 
gust,  1806.  Kulmi  and  the  old  Mehemet  were  killed.  The 
wreck  of  the  army  retreated  to  Schabaz.  The  Bosniacs,  who  en¬ 
deavored  to  repass  the  Drina,  were  taken  prisoners.  Kara-George, 
who  had  with  him  but  seven  thousand  infantry  and  two  thousand 
cavalry,  marched  rapidly  against  Ibrahim  Pacha  ;  who  was  besieg¬ 
ing  Daligrad,  a  Servian  city,  defended  by  another  chief,  named 
Peter  Dobrinyas.  On  his  approach,  Ibrahim  demanded  a  parley. 
Conferences  were  held  at  Smaraderewo.  A  short  pacification  for 
Servia  ensued,  on  terms  favorable  to  the  country.  It  was  only 
one  of  those  intervals  which  allow  insurrection  to  take  breath,  and 
insensibly  accustom  nations  to  that  semi-independence  which  soon 
changes  into  an  impatience  for  liberty.  A  short  time  afterwards, 
Kara-George,  who  had  not  dismissed  his  troops,  because  the  deci¬ 
sion  of  the  Mufti  had  not  ratified  the  treaty  of  Smaraderewo, 
marched  upon  Belgrade,  the  capital  of  Servia,  a  strong  city  on 
the  Danube  with  a  citadel  and  a  Turkish  garrison,  and  got  posses¬ 
sion  of  it.  Guseharez  Ali,  who  commanded  the  city,  obtained 
permission  from  Kara-George  to  retire  to  Widin,  descending  the 
Danube.  Soliman  Pacha  remained  in  the  citadel ;  but  at  the 
commencement  of  1807,  having  begun  his  march  with  his  re¬ 
maining  two  hundred  Janissaries,  to  rejoin  the  Turks,  he  was  mas¬ 
sacred  with  them  by  the  very  escort  that  Kara-George  had  given 
him  to  protect  his  retreat.  Kara-George  was  not  accused  of  this 
barbarity ;  it  was  the  effect  of  the  vengeance  of  the  Servians 
against  the  race  of  the  Janissaries,  whose  domineering  ferocity 
had  accustomed  them  to  similar  executions. 

The  success  of  this  war  of  independence  secured  to  Servia  its 
municipal  constitution.  The  military  chieftains,  named  vaivods, 
were  every  where  substituted  for  the  civil  powers.  These  vaivods 
were  supported  by  a  cavalry  formed  of  young  men  of  the  most 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


279 


wealthy  families,  who  received  no  pay,  but  lived  at  the  cost  of  the 
vaivods,  and  divided  the  spoil  with  them.  Some  of  the  vaivods 
had  with  them  as  many  as  fifty  of  these  young  men.  The  most 
notable  of  these  chieftains  at  that  time  were  Jacob  Nenadowistsch, 
Milenko,  Dobrinyas,  Ressava,  and  above  all,  Kara-George. 

A  senate,  composed  of  twelve  members,  elected  by  each  of  the 
twelve  districts,  was  to  preside  over  the  interests  of  this  species  of 
armed  confederacy,  and  serve  as  a  counterpoise  to  these  usurped 
powers.  The  senate  showed  itself  worthy  of  its  functions.  It 
regulated  the  finances,  determined  the  taxes,  devoted  the  tithe  to 
the  pay  of  the  troops,  and  employed  itself  on  the  instruction  of 
the  people,  with  a  zeal  and  an  understanding  which  even  then 
evinced  a  deep  instinct  of  civilization.  They  substituted  for  the 
routine  teaching  of  the  cloisters  and  the  convents,  popular  schools 
in  each  city  or  chief  place  of  the  districts.  Unfortunately,  the 
senators,  instead  of  having  the  entire  control  of  the  country,  re¬ 
presented  only  the  vaivods,  and  were  therefore  subject  to  their  im¬ 
mediate  influence. 

Another  deliberative  political  body,  composed  of  vaivods  and 
the  hospodars  themselves,  held  the  direction  of  the  most  important 
affairs,  and  the  disputed  sovereignty  was  shared  between  this  body 
and  Kara-George.  The  vaivods  who  composed  it  met  every  year 
about  Christmas  at  Belgrade  ;  it  deliberated  under  the  inspection 
of  the  chief,  and  in  the  midst  of  surrounding  intrigues,  upon  war 
and  peace,  upon  the  form  of  government,  and  the  amount  of  taxa¬ 
tion.  The  accounts  were  delivered  here,  and  regulations  were 
made  for  the  administration  of  justice.  The  existence  and  the 
claims  of  this  aristocratical  body  were  an  obstacle  to  the  complete 
enfranchisement  and  the  rapid  development  of  the  destinies  of 
Servia.  Unity  is  a  vital  condition  to  an  armed  people  in  presence 
of  their  enemies  :  their  independence  requires  a  despot  to  secure 
it ;  civil  liberty  requires  deliberative  bodies.  Had  the  Servians 
been  better  inspired,  they  would  have  raised  Kara-George  above 
his  rivals,  and  have  concentrated  the  power  in  one  single  hand. 
The  hospodars  did  feel  that  a  single  chief  was  requisite  ;  but 
every  one  wished  that  he  might  be  feeble,  from  the  hope  of  direct¬ 
ing  him.  The  choice  of  the  senators  proved  the  influence  of  this 
secret  wish.  They  hoped  that  this  body  might  serve  them  against 
Kara-George — George  hoped  they  might  serve  him  against  the 
hospodars.  Concealed  feelings  of  hostility  arose  among  the  de¬ 
liverers  of  Servia. 

The  most  eloquent  of  the  senators,  Mladen  Milowanowitsch, 


280 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


had,  through  the  power  of  his  oratory,  gained  the  lead  in  the  dis¬ 
cussion  of  affairs  in  the  senate.  Enriched  by  the  spoil  of  Belgrade, 
and  master  of  the  foreign  trade  by  having  framed  the  customs  of 
the  Danube,  he  had  given  umbrage  to  Kara-George  and  his  parti¬ 
sans.  The  senate,  through  their  influence,  rose  against  Milowa- 
nowitsch,  who  retired  to  Doligrad,  filled  with  thoughts  of  vengeance. 
He  secretly  announced  to  George  the  intrigues  of  Russia  and  the 
Greeks  against  him.  Kara-George  believed  him,  recalled  him  to 
Belgrade,  resolved  upon  war  against  the  Bosniacs,  and  began  the 
campaign  of  1809  by  entering  Bosnia. 

The  same  national  Sclavonic  air  which  celebrates  the  com¬ 
mencement  of  the  insurrection,  predicts  misfortunes  for  the  day 
when  it  should  be  attempted  to  pass  the  Drina  and  invade  Bosnia. 
The  prediction  of  the  poet  was  an  oracle  of  Providence.  The 
campaign  was  a  series  of  mistakes,  disasters,  and  ruin.  Kara- 
George,  supported  by  a  Russian  corps,  fought  with  his  wonted 
heroism,  but  in  vain.  His  soldiers,  discouraged,  grew  weak. 
Having  been  worsted  by  the  Turks  at  Komenitza,  he  flew  to  pro¬ 
tect  Tragodina  and  the  left  bank  of  the  Morawa,  and  was  even 
indebted  to  an  important  diversion  of  the  Russians  for  the  preser¬ 
vation  of  this  part  of  his  territory. 

These  reverses  increased  the  jealous  enmity  of  the  vaivods 
against  him.  Jacob  Nenadowitsch  was  the  first  who  shook  his 
fortune.  He  appeared  in  the  senate,  the  1st  January  1810,  at  the 
head  of  six  hundred  horsemen,  and  was  appointed  president  of  the 
senate.  The  influence  of  Russia  alone  upheld  for  some  time  the 
falling  power  of  Kara-George.  He  advanced  against  Churchid 
Pacha  of  Nissa,  who  commanded  thirty  thousand  men.  The  plain 
of  Warwarin  was  the  scene  of  a  sanguinary  conflict,  in  which 
three  thousand  Servians,  animated  by  the  voice  and  the  example 
of  their  general,  drove  back  this  mass  of  Turks,  compelled  them 
to  intrench  themselves  and  soon  after  to  re-enter  Nissa.  Kara- 
George  immediately  advanced  towards  Lonitza,  which  was  be¬ 
sieged  by  forty  thousand  Turks.  The  town,  which  had  resisted 
a  formidable  artillery  for  twelve  days,  was  on  the  point  of  falling 
into  the  power  of  the  besiegers,  when  the  appearance  of  Kara- 
George  and  the  valor  of  his  Servians,  forced  the  Turkish  army  to 
repass  the  Drina.  This  was  the  apogee  of  the  glory  of  Kara- 
George.  Thanks  to  his  energy,  Servia  being  entirely  delivered, 
extended  her  frontier  from  the  isle  of  Poretsch  on  the  Danube,  to 
the  confluence  of  that  river  with  the  Timok.  But  peace,  always 
more  fatal  to  the  deliverers  of  their  country  than  war,  set  in  fer- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


281 


mentation  new  intrigues  and  dissensions  amongst  the  chiefs,  whom 
a  sense  of  common  danger  had  united.  The  hospodars  wished  to 
diminish  the  authority  of  Kara-George,  in  order  at  last  to  dispos¬ 
sess  him  entirely.  This  plot  was  discovered  in  time  to  avert  it. 
He  availed  himself  of  the  attempt,  which  was  energetically  re¬ 
pressed,  to  bring  about  in  his  own  favor  a  definite  reaction  in  the 
Diet  of  1811.  He  gave  a  mortal  blow  to  the  influence  of  the 
hospodars  and  the  vaivods,  by  subdividing  the  district,  and  increas¬ 
ing  the  chiefs,  who,  too  weak  to  act  singly,  became  thenceforward 
easy  instruments  to  manage  ;  and  who,  moreover,  jealous  of  the 
ancient  superiority  of  the  vaivods,  maintained  themselves  against 
them  by  the  superiority  of  the  supreme  chief,  and  united  their 
fortune  with  his.  The  powers  of  the  senate  were  changed.  This 
body,  instead  of  concentrating  the  whole  authority  in  itself,  was 
divided  into  two  assemblies  ;  one,  composed  of  the  least  influential 
members,  formed  a  species  of  judicial  magistracy,  and  the  other 
held  the  administrative  functions,  and  became  a  sort  of  ministry  to 
Kara-George.  It  is  impossible  not  to  admire  the  political  instinct 
of  this  great  man,  which  is  as  profound  as  his  military  eye  is  sure 
and  comprehensive.  By  calling  around  him,  and  retaining,  by 
lucrative  and  honorable  posts,  his  friends,  and  even  his  enemies, 
he  separated  them  from  a  people  too  much  accustomed  to  obey 
them,  and  thus  ruined  their  seditious  oligarchy.  A  law  of  ban¬ 
ishment  was  passed  against  every  Servian  who  should  resist  this 
constitution  of  the  powers  of  the  state.  Dobrinyas  and  Milenko 
made  the  attempt,  and  took  refuge  in  Russia.  Nenadowitsch 
joined  the  party  of  George,  through  the  marriage  of  his  daughter 
with  Mladen,  one  of  the  most  powerful  partisans  of  the  dictator. 

The  Sultan  proposed  to  acknowledge  Kara-George  as  hospodar 
of  Servia,  under  the  guarantee  of  Russia.  The  Turks  were  to 
retain  the  fortresses  and  the  arms.  Complicated  negotiations  were 
continued  without  any  effect  till  1813,  when  Kara-George,  unable 
to  come  to  an  agreement  with  the  Porte,  called  his  countrymen  to 
arms.  “You  have,55  said  he,  “conquered  your  enemies  with  me 
during  nine  years ;  you  have  fought  without  arms  and  without 
magazines ;  you  now  have  cities,  ramparts,  rivers,  between  you 
and  the  Turks ;  a  hundred  and  fifty  pieces  of  cannon,  seven  for¬ 
tresses,  forty  fortified  posts,  and  your  forests,  the  impregnable  asy¬ 
lum  of  your  liberties  :  the  Russians  will  march  to  your  aid  : — can 
you  hesitate  ?55 

The  Turks,  however,  commanded  by  the  capitan  pacha  of 
Widin,  put  themselves  in  motion.  The  grand  vizier,  profiting  by 


282 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


the  victory  of  the  French  at  Lutzen,  pressed  the  pachas  to  termi¬ 
nate  at  a  blow  this  long  struggle  so  humiliating  for  the  Porte. 
Eighteen  thousand  Turks  advanced  against  Weliko,  whom  they 
besieged  in  Negotin.  Weliko  was  killed  by  a  cannon-ball.  His 
army,  broken  up,  fled  to  the  marshes  as  far  as  the  isle  of  Poretsch. 
In  the  south,  Churchid  Pacha,  at  the  head  of  a  numerous  army, 
drove  before  him  Mladen  and  Sima,  the  two  Servian  generals,  and 
encamped  under  the  very  walls  of  Schabatz.  Never  had  Servia 
been  reduced  to  such  extremities.  The  enthusiasm  of  indepen¬ 
dence  appeared  stifled  under  such  reverses,  as  well,  perhaps,  as 
by  three  years  of  peace  and  intestine  dissensions.  Her  nationality 
and  her  glory  were  eclipsed  at  the  same  time ;  and  Kara-George 
himself,  abandoning  both  his  fortune  and  his  country,  either  be¬ 
cause  he  foresaw  the  catastrophe  to  be  inevitable,  or  because  he 
wished  to  reserve  himself  for  better  days,  or  had  exhausted  his 
heroism,  and  was  anxious  to  save  his  life  and  his  treasures,  passed 
over  to  the  Austrian  territory  with  his  secretary  Jainka,  and  three 
of  his  confidants.  Thus  was  eclipsed  for  ever  the  hero  of  Servia, 
by  going  to  die  in  an  Austrian  citadel,  instead  of  seeking  amongst 
his  comrades,  and  on  the  soil  of  the  country  whose  energy  he  had 
first  aroused,  a  death  which  would  have  immortalized  him !  On 
learning  his  flight,  the  army  disbanded  itself ;  and  Smederewos 
and  Belgrade  again  fell  under  the  power  of  the  Turks.  Servia 
became  a  pachalik ;  and  Solyman,  her  conqueror,  became  her 
master  and  pacha. 

The  senators  had  fled :  one  single  individual,  the  vaivod  Mi- 
losch  Obrenowitsch,  remained  faithful  to  the  now  desperate  cause 
of  independence.  He  raised  the  southern  provinces,  and  wished 
to  occupy  Osehiza ;  but,  being  abandoned  by  his  troops,  he  was 
obliged  to  accept  the  proposals  of  the  Turks.  Solyman,  to  whom 
he  was  presented,  received  him  with  distinction.  The  disarmed 
Servians  were  employed  to  erect  with  their  own  hands  the  fortifi¬ 
cations  which  were  to  keep  the  country  in  check.  The  tyranny 
of  the  dispossessed  spahis  was  avenged  by  a  most  insolent  oppres¬ 
sion  for  the  nine  years  of  exile  to  which  the  bravery  of  the  Servi¬ 
ans  had  driven  them.  However,  the  national  character  regained 
its  tone  under  this  severe  and  degrading  slavery.  The  ashes  of 
the  insurrection  were  still  smouldering.  Milosch,  who  was  atten¬ 
tively  watching  the  favorable  moment,  and  which  he  thought  not 
yet  arrived,  energetically  repressed  the  premature  attempts  of  his 
friends.  The  barbarous  treachery  of  the  kiaia  of  Solyman  Pacha, 
was  more  powerful  over  him  than  the  counsels  of  prudence.  Mi- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


283 


losch  had  obtained  an  amnesty  for  the  insurgents  of  Tagodina  : 
instead  of  keeping  their  promise,  the  Turks  assembled  the  chiefs 
of  the  insurrection  at  Belgrade,  shot  a  hundred  and  fifty  of  them, 
and  impaled  thirty-six.  Milosch,  who  was  himself  at  Belgrade, 
had  the  grief  to  witness  the  wretched  fate  of  his  countrymen. 
Their  blood  rose  up  against  him  and  cried  aloud  in  his  heart. 
The  Turks  perceived  his  rage ;  they  feared  his  vengeance,  and 
made  him  prisoner ;  but  he  soon  escaped,  cleared  the  ramparts, 
and  took  refuge  in  the  mountains  of  Ruduik :  where  he  rallied 
his  partisans,  and  the  insurrection  spread  like  wildfire  throughout 
all  the  forests  of  Servia. 

Milosch  was  born  in  1780 ;  his  mother,  Wischnia,  was  twice 
married.  Her  first  husband’s  name  was  Obren  ;  by  him  she  had 
one  son,  named  Milan.  The  name  of  her  second  husband  was 
Tescho ;  by  him  she  had  several  children  ;  Milosch  was  one  of 
these.  His  parents  being  without  fortune,  he  was  obliged  to  drive 
the  cattle  that  the  rich  merchants  of  the  country  were  sending  to 
the  Dalmatian  markets.  He  next  entered  the  service  of  Milan, 
his  uterine  brother,  who  dealt  in  cattle.  The  two  brothers  loved 
each  other  so  affectionately,  that  Milosch  took  the  name  of  Obren- 
owitsch,  which  was  that  of  Milan’s  father.  The  business  of  the 
brothers  flourished.  Rich  and  influential  at  the  period  of  the  first 
insurrection,  they  took  a  part  in  it,  each  according  to  the  nature 
of  his  character :  Milan,  peaceful  and  gentle,  remained  at  home, 
to  provide  for  the  concerns  of  the  district ;  Milosch,  active  and 
intrepid,  fought  under  Kara-George. 

When  Kara-George  changed  the  constitution  of  the  country, 
Milan  took  part  against  him,  and  was  shot  by  his  orders.  Milosch 
owed  his  fortune  and  his  subsequent  glory  to  the  death  of  his 
brother.  The  desire  of  vengeance  threw  him  into  the  ranks  of 
the  malcontents.  He  did  not  retire  with  the  chiefs  who  fled  in 
1813;  all  eyes  were  therefore  naturally  fixed  upon  him,  who 
alone  remained  in  the  country. 

Milosch,  on  Palm  Sunday,  1815,  having  fled  from  Belgrade, 
entered  the  church  of  Takowo,  where  a  large  congregation  had 
assembled.  Pie  harangued  the  people  with  all  the  eloquence  so 
natural  to  the  Sclavonian,  and  with  the  irresistible  force  of  stern 
resolution  which  already  animated  his  listeners.  Hostilities  be¬ 
gan  :  Milosch,  at  the  head  of  a  few  young  horsemen  of  his  district 
and  a  thousand  mountaineers,  seized  one  of  the  gates  from  the 
spahis,  and  captured  two  pieces  of  cannon.  At  the  news  of  this 
success,  the  emigrants  returned,  the  fugitives  quitted  the  forests, 


284 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LANH. 


the  heydukes  descended  from  the  mountains,  and  attacked  the 
pacha’s  kiaia,  who,  at  the  head  of  ten  thousand  men,  had  impru¬ 
dently  encamped  in  the  plains  of  the  Morawa.  The  kiaia  was 
slain  in  the  battle  ;  his  death  spread  terror  in  the  camp,  and  the 
Turks  fled  to  Sienitza.  At  this  place  another  battle  was  fought ; 
Milosch  gained  the  victory  :  the  spoil,  the  women,  the  artillery  of 
the  kiaia,  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Servians.  Ali  Pacha  quitted 
Belgrade  with  all  his  remaining  troops,  and  marched  against  Mi¬ 
losch.  He  was  defeated,  and  retired  to  Kiupra  with  an  escort 
given  him  by  the  conqueror.  Adem  Pacha  made  a  disgraceful 
capitulation,  shut  himself  in  Novibazar,  and  accepted  the  presents 
of  Milosch.  The  pacha  of  Bosnia  descended  from  his  mountains 
with  a  fresh  and  numerous  army,  sending  forward  Ali  Pacha,  one 
of  his  lieutenants,  to  attack  Milosch  in  Matschwai :  Ali  Pacha 
was  taken  prisoner,  and  sent  back  loaded  with  presents  to  the 
grand  vizier.  The  Servians  already  showed  themselves  worthy, 
by  their  generosity,  of  that  civilization  in  the  name  of  which  they 
were  conquering  ;  and  Milosch  treated  with  his  enemies  as  with 
future  friends.  He  felt  that  complete  independence  of  his  country 
was  not  yet  established,  and  he  observed  treaties  instead  of  dis¬ 
honoring  them  by  massacres.  On  the  frontier  of  the  Morawa, 
Maraschli  Ali  Pacha  was  now  advancing  in  his  turn.  Luckily, 
disunion  prevailed  between  this  general  and  Churchid  Pacha,  the 
former  grand  vizier  and  pacha  of  Bosnia.  They  did  not  combine 
their  plans ;  and  each  in  secret  wished  the  defeat  of  the  other,  to 
obtain  for  himself  alone  the  honor  of  the  victory  :  each  desired  to 
negotiate  and  secure  the  honor  of  having  finished  the  war.  Mi¬ 
losch  was  aware  of  these  intrigues,  and  took  advantage  of  them  ; 
he  ventured  to  present  himself  in  person  before  the  grand  vizier, 
in  the  midst  of  the  Turkish  camp :  he  obtained  an  interview  with 
Churchid,  but  came  to  no  understanding.  Milosch  insisted  that 
Servia  should  remain  armed  ;  the  pacha  agreed  to  all  the  other 
terms  but  this,  which  indeed  rendered  them  useless.  Milosch, 
being  irritated,  arose  to  mount  his  horse ;  Churchid  ordered  his 
detention  :  the  Janissaries  threw  themselves  before  him,  but  Ali 
Pacha,  the  lieutenant  of  Churchid,  whom  Milosch  had  conquered, 
and  sent  with  presents  to  the  grand  vizier,  courageously  interpos¬ 
ed  between  the  Janissaries  and  Milosch  ;  represented  to  Churchid 
that  Milosch  was  come  to  the  camp  under  pledge  of  his  word, 
which  was  enforced  by  oath,  that  he  should  be  dismissed  in  safe¬ 
ty  ;  and  that  he  himself  would  sooner  die  than  allow  any  attempt 
upon  the  liberty  of  the  man  to  whom  he  owed  his  life.  The  firm- 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


285 


ness  of  Ali  Pacha  imposed  on  the  vizier  and  his  soldiers  ;  he  led 
him  from  the  camp.  Milosch  said  to  him  on  departing,  “  Hence¬ 
forth  trust  to  no  one,  not  even  to  yourself.  We  have  been  friends  ; 
we  now  part,  and  forever.”  Milosch  retired  ;  negotiations  open¬ 
ed  with  Maraschli  Ali  Pacha  were  more  successful ;  the  arms 
were  allowed  ;  Servian  deputies  were  despatched  to  Constantino¬ 
ple,  and  returned  at  the  end  of  a  month,  bearing  a  firman  of  peace, 
conceived  in  these  words :  “  As  God  has  confided  his  subjects  to 
the  Sultan,  so  does  the  Sultan  confide  them  to  his  pacha.”  The 
pacha  re-entered  Belgrade,  and  the  Servian  chiefs  made  him  their 
submission  in  the  person  of  Milosch ;  the  fortresses  remained  in 
the  hands  of  the  Turks;  the  administration  was  shared  between 
the  two  parties ;  a  national  senate  met  at  Belgrade  under  the 
pacha.  Ali,  liked  by  the  Servians,  replaced  their  enemy  Soly- 
man  Pacha  at  Belgrade,  who  was  recalled  by  the  grand  signior. 
Such  a  state  of  things  could  not  last  long  ;  collisions  were  inev¬ 
itable.  Milosch,  always  the  leader  of  his  nation,  remained  at 
Belgrade  with  Ali  Pacha,  like  a  watchful  sentinel,  always  ready 
to  give  the  people  the  signal  for  resistance  or  attack. 

Ali  endeavored  to  obtain  by  address  the  disarmament  which 
he  could  not  procure  by  force.  He  addressed  himself  to  Milosch, 
conjuring  him  to  obtain  the  arms  of  the  people.  Milosch  replied 
that  he  and  his  friends  were  ready  to  lay  down  their  arms,  but 
that  it  was  not  possible  to  take  them  from  the  peasantry.  The 
pacha,  being  indignant,  stirred  up  against  the  Servian  chancellor, 
Moler,  and  the  metropolitan  Nikschwitz  :  but  Milosch’s  guards 
seized  the  two  conspirators  in  full  council,  and  obliged  the  pacha 
himself,  in  virtue  of  his  executive  power,  to  put  them  to  death. 
The  boldness  of  the  Servians  increased  at  this  weakness  of  the 
pacha  :  Milosch  quitted  Belgrade,  and,  to  escape  the  snares  of  all 
kinds  with  which  the  Turks  and  his  rivals  amongst  the  Servians 
surrounded  him,  shut  himself  up  in  the  fortified  village  of  Tops- 
chidor,  half  a  league  from  Belgrade. — In  1821  a  new  attempt 
was  again  made  against  the  life  and  power  of  Milosch.  The  two 
vaivods  who  had  planned  it  were  executed.  The  pacha  was  sus¬ 
pected  of  having  been  the  instigator ;  and  the  animosity  between 
the  two  nations  grew  stronger.  However,  the  insurrections  in 
Albania,  and  the  war  of  independence  in  Greece,  occupied  and 
weakened  the  Turks.  Circumstances  were  favorable  for  the 
concentration  of  the  national  power  in  Servia.  Nations  never 
conquer  their  liberty  but  by  identifying  themselves  with  a  mili¬ 
tary  chief :  interest  and  gratitude  naturally  induce  them  to  con- 

VOL.  ii.  13* 


286 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


sign  the  hereditary  power  to  him  who  was  enabled  to  create  and 
defend  it.  Monarchy  is  an  instinct  with  rising  nations  :  it  is  a 
defence  they  throw  around  their  still  assailed  independence.  This 
instinct  was  the  stronger  in  Servia,  where  republican  forms  were 
unknown.  Milosch  felt  it,  and  turned  it  to  account.  He  extend¬ 
ed  his  authority,  and  re-established  very  nearly  the  constitution 
of  Kara-George.  He  interposed,  between  himself  and  the  people, 
the  aristocracy  of  the  knevens,  who  were  charged  with  the  ad¬ 
ministration  of  the  country.  Every  kneven  has  his  knev,  or  pro¬ 
vince  ;  and  most  of  the  districts  have  their  obar-kneven.  Milosch 
appoints  them — assigns  their  territory  and  their  salary.  To  avoid 
every  pretence  for  exaction,  the  knevens  receive  their  pay  from 
the  public  treasury.  Subordinate  courts  are  established  in  the 
towns  and  villages.  A  superior  court  is  held  at  Kraguzewatz. 
Milosch  appoints  them.  Custom  supplies  the  place  of  law,  until 
the  formation  of  a  code  which  is  in  preparation.  The  right  of 
pronouncing  the  penalty  of  death  is  reserved  for  the  supreme 
head  of  the  government.  The  small  subsidy  paid  by  Servia  to 
the  Porte,  the  remains  of  a  ransom,  which  is  but  a  reminiscence 
of  their  former  dependence,  passes  through  the  hands  of  the  su¬ 
preme  chief,  who  delivers  it  to  the  pacha.  The  pacha,  a  vain 
shadow  of  authority  no  longer  existing,  is  but  a  sentinel  of  the 
Porte,  who  watches  the  Danube,  and  conveys  orders  to  the  Turks 
who  occupy  the  fortresses.  In  the  event  of  a  war  with  Austria, 
the  Servians  are  to  furnish  a  contingent  of  forty  thousand  men. 
The  clergy,  whose  influence  might  have  counterbalanced  that  of 
Milosch,  have  lost  their  preponderance  by  losing  the  administra¬ 
tion  of  justice,  now  assigned  to  the  civil  courts.  The  papas  and 
the  monks,  like  the  rest  of  the  community,  are  subject  to  corporal 
penalties,  and  pay  the  common  taxes.  The  revenues  of  the  bi¬ 
shops  are  replaced  by  a  fixed  salary  from  the  state  :  hence  all 
the  power  is  concentrated  in  the  hands  of  the  supreme  chief. 
The  civilization  of  Servia  resembles  the  regular  discipline  of  a 
vast  camp,  in  which  a  single  will  is  the  moving  power  of  a  mul¬ 
titude  of  men,  whatsoever  may  be  their  functions  or  their  rank. 
In  the  presence  of  the  Turks  this  position  is  necessary.  The 
people  are  on  the  alert  and  armed  ;  the  chief  is  an  absolute  sol¬ 
dier.  This  state  of  semi-independence  is  still  contested  by  the 
Turks.  The  treaty  of  Akerman  in  1827  decided  nothing.  A 
Diet  was  held  at  Kraguzewatz,  in  which  it  became  necessary  to 
take  cognizance  of  the  treaty  of  Akerman.  Milosch  rose  and 
said — 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


287 


“  I  know  that  there  are  some  who  are  dissatisfied  with  the 
penalties  inflicted  by  my  orders  on  some  disturbers.  I  have  been 
accused  of  being  too  severe,  and  too  desirous  of  power,  whilst  I 
have  no  other  object  than  the  maintenance  of  peace  and  obedience, 
which  above  all  things  are  required  by  the  two  imperial  courts. 
The  taxes  paid  by  the  people  are  imputed  to  me  as  a  crime, 
without  reflecting  how  costly  is  the  liberty  which  we  have  con¬ 
quered,  and  how  much  more  costly  is  slavery  !  A  weaker  man 
would  yield  to  the  difficulties  of  my  situation.  It  is  only  by  arm¬ 
ing  myself  with  rigid  justice  that  I  can  fulfill  the  duties  I  have 
contracted  towards  the  people,  the  emperors,  my  own  conscience, 
and  towards  God  himself.” 

After  this  speech,  the  Diet  passed  an  act,  which  was  present¬ 
ed  to  Milosch,  and  sent  to  the  Porte  ;  an  act  by  which,  through 
the  organ  of  their  chiefs,  they  swore  eternal  obedience  to  his  high¬ 
ness,  Prince  Milosch  Obrenowitsch  and  his  descendants.  Servia 
paid  its  debt  to  Milosch  :  he  is  now  paying  his  to  Servia.  He  is 
giving  to  his  country  laws  simple  as  its  morals,  but  qualified  by 
European  knowledge.  Like  the  ancient  legislators  of  new  peo¬ 
ple,  he  is  sending  young  Servians  to  travel  to  the  large  capitals 
of  Europe,  to  obtain  information  on  the  subjects  of  legislation  and 
administration,  in  order  to  apply  it  to  his  country.  A  few  fo¬ 
reigners  form  a  part  of  his  court,  and  serve  as  informants  upon 
the  languages  and  the  arts  of  the  neighboring  nations.  The 
population,  at  peace,  and  devoted  to  the  occupations  of  agriculture 
and  commerce,  comprehend  the  value  of  the  liberty  they  have 
conquered,  and  are  increasing  in  number,  energy,  and  public 
virtue.  Religion,  the  sole  civilizer  of  nations  which  have  it  not 
in  their  laws,  has  lost  its  abuses,  without  losing  any  of  its  happy 
influences :  public  education  is  a  principal  object  of  the  govern¬ 
ment’s  care.  The  people  lend  themselves,  with  an  instinct  almost 
fanatical,  to  the  efforts  of  Milosch  to  render  them  worthy  of  a  more 
improved  form  of  government.  It  seems  as  though  he  perceived 
that  enlightened  nations  only  are  capable  of  becoming  free  na¬ 
tions,  and  that  he  was  hastening  to  this  end.  The  municipal 
powers,  thrown  into  the  districts  as  the  germs  of  liberty,  are  pre¬ 
paring  to  bud  forth.  Some  exiles,  banished  by  the  Turks  after 
the  flight  of  Kara-George,  and  by  Milosch  for  having  conspired 
with  the  Turks  against  him,  are  still  deprived  of  their  country  ; 
but  every  day,  by  consolidating  order  and  fusing  opinions  into  a 
unanimous  patriotism,  is  advancing  the  period  when  they  may 
return,  and  recognize  the  happy  influence  of  the  hero  whom  they 
had  fought  against. 


288 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Ten  thousand  Turks  still  occupy  the  fortresses.  The  prince 
could  easily  expel  them  ;  all  the  country  would  rise  at  his  voice. 
But  the  presence  of  the  Turks  in  these  fortresses,  and  their  nom¬ 
inal  co-sovereignty,  having  no  injurious  effects  upon  Servia,  but 
on  the  contrary,  preventing  internal  agitation,  and  foreign  in¬ 
trigues,  which  would  infallibly  arise  if  she  were  completely  de¬ 
tached  from  the  Ottoman  empire,  the  prince,  with  skillful  policy, 
prefers  this  state  of  things  to  a  new  and  premature  war.  The 
people  are  grateful  to  him  for  this  peace,  which  gives  time  for 
the  unfolding  of  internal  civilization.  They  are  in  no  apprehen¬ 
sion  for  their  real  independence  ;  all  the  inhabitants  are  armed, 
and  occupy  the  interior,  the  towns,  and  the  villages.  The  pacha 
resides  at  Belgrade  :  Milosch,  sometimes  at  Belgrade,  somtimes  at 
his  chateau  within  a  mile  of  the  city,  oftener  at  Kraguzewatz. 
He  is  there  more  insulated  from  the  Turks,  and  occupies  the 
most  central  spot  in  Servia.  The  nature  of  the  country,  and  his 
warlike  attitude,  prevent  the  possibility  of  a  surprise.  Prince 
Milosch  is  forty- nine  years  of  age.  He  has  two  sons,  the  eldest 
twelve  years  old. 

The  approaching  destinies  of  the  Ottoman  empire  will  decide 
the  fate  of  his  family  and  people  ;  but  it  appears  as  if  nature 
called  it  to  a  powerful  participation  in  the  great  events  which  are 
preparing  in  European  as  well  as  Asiatic  Turkey.  The  popular 
songs,  which  the  prince  takes  care  to  disperse  amongst  the  peo¬ 
ple,  will  lead  them  to  anticipate,  in  the  coming  events,  the  glory 
and  power  of  Servia,  like  that  under  their  ancient  heroic  king, 
Stephen  Duschan.  The  adventerous  exploits  of  their  heydukes 
pass  from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  cause  the  Servians  to  meditate  on 
the  resurrection  of  a  Sclavonic  nation,  whose  germ,  language,  man¬ 
ners,  and  primitive  virtues,  they  have  preserved  in  the  forests  of 
Schumadia. 

The  traveler  like  myself  cannot  help  hailing  these  anticipa¬ 
tions  with  wishes  and  hopes:  he  cannot  quit  without  regret  and 
without  benedictions  these  immense  virgin  forests,  these  moun¬ 
tains,  these  plains,  these  rivers,  which  seem  springing  from  the 
hands  of  the  Creator,  and  mingling  the  luxuriant  youth  of  the 
land  with  that  of  the  people,  when  he  sees  the  new  houses  of  the 
Servians  peeping  from  the  woods,  rising  at  the  edge  of  the  tor¬ 
rents,  extending  in  long  yellow  lines  at  the  bottom  of  the  valleys  ; 
when  he  hears  from  afar  the  noise  of  the  saws  and  the  mills,  the 
sound  of  the  bells  just  baptized  with  the  blood  of  the  defenders  of 
the  country,  and  the  peaceful  or  the  martial  chant  of  the  young 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


289 


men  and  maidens  returning  home  from  the  labors  of  the  field  ; 
when  he  sees  the  long  strings  of  children  coming  out  of  their  schools 
or  their  wooden  churches,  whose  roofs  are  hardly  finished,  with  the 
accents  of  liberty,  joy,  and  hope  in  every  mouth,  youth  and  sport¬ 
iveness  on  every  countenance :  when  he  reflects  on  the  immense 
physical  advantages  the  land  assures  to  its  inhabitants ;  on  the 
temperate  sun  that  warms  it:  on  the  mountains  which  shade  and 
protect  it  like  natural  fortresses  ;  on  the  magnificent  Danube, 
which  winds  to  enfold  it,  and  bears  its  produce  to  the  north  and 
the  east;  in  short,  on  the  Adriatic,  which  would  soon  furnish  it 
with  ports  and  a  marine,  and  connect  it  with  Italy  :  moreover, 
when  the  traveler  recollects  that,  in  crossing  the  country,  he  has 
received  only  marks  of  kindness  and  greetings  of  friendship  ;  that 
not  a  cottage  has  required  the  price  of  its  hospitality;  that  he  has 
been  welcomed  every  where  alike,  consulted  as  a  sage,  question¬ 
ed  as  an  oracle,  and  that  his  words,  caught  with  eager  curiosity 
by  papas  or  knevers,  will  remain  a  germ  of  civilization  in  the 
villages  through  which  he  has  passed, — he  cannot  help  looking 
for  the  last  time  with  affection  upon  the  rough  and  wooded  bank 
with  its  ruined  mosques  and  broken  domes,  from  which  the  wide 
Danube  separates  him,  and  exclaiming  to  himself  as  they  disappear, 
“  Would  that  I  might  combat  with  this  people  for  their  dawning 
liberty  !”  and  repeating  the  strophes  of  one  of  their  popular  songs, 
which  his  dragoman  had  translated, — 

“  When  the  sun  of  Servia  gleams  on  the  waters  of  the  Dan¬ 
ube,  the  river  seems  in  movement  with  the  blades  of  yagatans, 
and  the  glittering  muskets  of  the  Montenegrins  :  it  is  a  river  of 
steel  that  defends  Servia.  How  pleasant  to  be  seated  on  the 
banks,  and  to  see  the  broken  arms  of  our  enemies  pass  by  !” 

“  When  the  wind  of  Albania  descends  from  the  mountains  and 
plunges  beneath  the  forests  of  Schumadia,  cries  come  forth,  as 
from  the  army  of  Turks  in  the  battle  of  the  Morawa  :  sweet  is 
the  sound  to  the  ears  of  the  freed  Servians!  Dead  or  alive,  it  is 
sweet  after  the  battle  to  lie  at  the  foot  of  this  oak,  which,  like  our¬ 
selves,  chants  its  liberty. ” 


END  OF  THE  NOTES  ON  SERVIA. 


290 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLST  LAND. 


POLITICAL  REFLECTIONS. 


During  eighteen  months  of  traveling,  vicissitude,  and  leisure, 
a  man  reflects,  even  involuntarily.  The  innumerable  facts  which 
pass  under  his  eye  enlighten  him  even  unconsciously  to  himself. 
The  different  aspects  under  which  human  circumstances  present 
themselves  before  him  give  them  a  new  association  and  illustra¬ 
tion.  In  history,  in  philosophy,  in  religion,  he  reasons  upon  what 
he  has  seen  and  heard, — instinctive  truths  form  in  his  mind, — 
and  upon  examination  he  finds  himself  in  many  respects  a  new 
man.  The  world  has  spoken  to  him,  and  he  has  understood  it: 
and  if  it  were  otherwise,  what  advantage  would  the  traveler  de¬ 
rive  from  the  difficulties,  the  perils,  the  wearying  separations  he 
encounters, — his  long  absence  from  his  friends  and  his  country  ? 
Travels  would  be  but  a  brilliant  deception.  But  they  are  in  fact 
the  education  of  the  mind  by  nature  and  men.  A  man,  however, 
does  not  part  from  himself  in  his  travels  ;  the  thoughts  which 
employed  his  age  and  his  country  when  he  quitted  the  paternal 
roof  follow  and  occupy  him  on  his  route.  Politics  having  been 
the  business  of  the  day  in  Europe  and  in  France  when  I  took  my 
departure,  my  thoughts  have  been  much  turned  to  politics  in  the 
East.  In  political  order,  as  well  as  in  history,  philosophy,  and 
religion,  ideas  more  true,  more  expansive,  and  more  accurate, 
have  resulted  from  my  examination  of  facts  and  places.  My 
mind  has  made  some  decisive  inferences,  and  here  they  are.  It 
is  the  only  page  of  those  notes  of  a  traveler  which  I  am  inclined 
to  offer  to  Europe,  and  I  do  so  because  it  contains  a  truth  useful 
at  the  passing  hour, — a  truth  which  must  be  seized  while  it  is 
ripe  and  manifest,  and  which  may  be  made  fruitful  hereafter. 
If  it  is  understood  and  acted  upon,  it  will  save  Europe  and  Asia, 
— it  will  multiply  and  ameliorate  the  human  race,  and  produce 
an  epoch  in  its  laborious  and  progressive  existence.  If  it  is  mis¬ 
understood  and  neglected  as  an  impracticable  dream  on  account 
of  some  slight  difficulties  in  its  execution,  the  good  and  evil 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


291 


passions  of  Europe  will  explode  on  herself,  and  Asia  will  remain, 
what  she  now  is,  a  dead  and  sterile  branch  of  humanity.  In  two 
words,  then : 

Human  ideas  have  brought  Europe  to  one  of  those  great 
organical  crises,  but  very  few  of  which  are  preserved  in  the 
archives  of  history ;  epochs  where  a  worn-out  civilization  yields 
to  another — where  the  past  no  longer  maintains  its  hold  upon  us, 
and  where  the  future  presents  itself  in  masses,  shrouded  in  all 
the  uncertainties,  all  the  obscurity,  which  attend  unknown  effects  ; 
epochs  terrible  when  they  are  not  fruitful — climacteric  maladies 
of  the  human  mind,  which  benumb  it  for  centuries,  or  vivify  it 
for  a  new  and  long  existence.  The  French  Revolution  has  been 
the  tocsin  of  the  world.  Many  of  its  phases  are  accomplished  ; 
but  it  is  not  yet  ended, — nothing  ends  in  the  slow,  intestine,  eter¬ 
nal  movements  of  the  moral  life  of  mankind.  There  is  a  halting¬ 
time  ;  but  during  those  very  halts  the  thoughts  ripen,  and  the 
strength  grows  which  is  to  be  the  foundation  of  future  action. 
In  the  inarch  of  societies,  the  change  of  object  is  but  a  new 
starting-point.  The  French  Revolution,  which  will  in  time  be 
called  the  European  Revolution,  because  ideas  find  their  level 
like  water,  is  not  only  a  political  revolution,  a  transfer  of  power, 
one  dynasty  set  in  the  place  of  another,  or  a  republic  in  that  of  a 
monarchy :  all  that  is  only  an  accident,  symptom,  instrument, 
medium.  The  work  is  so  much  the  more  serious  and  important, 
as  it  may  be  accomplished  under  all  the  forms  of  political  power ; 
and  one  may  be  a  royalist  or  a  republican,  attached  to  one  dy¬ 
nasty  or  another,  a  partisan  of  this  or  that  constitutional  combi¬ 
nation,  without  being  less  sincerely  or  less  effectually  a  revo¬ 
lutionist.  One  may  prefer  one  instrument  to  another  for  removing 
the  world  and  changing  its  place  ;  and  that  is  all  the  difference. 
But  the  idea  of  revolution — that  is  to  say,  of  change  and  amelio¬ 
ration — does  not  the  less  enlighten  the  mind  and  warm  the  heart. 
Where  amongst  us  is  the  man  of  thought,  of  heart  and  reason,  of 
religion  and  hope,  who,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and 
examining  it  before  God  and  in  presence  of  society,  dropping  to 
pieces  in  consequence  of  the  anomalous  and  antiquated  nature  of 
the  materials  that  compose  it,  does  not  answer  to  himself,  I  am  a 
revolutionist?  The  time  draws  into  its  wake,  as  well  those  who 
resist  it,  as  those  who  give  it  their  good  wishes  and  take  the  lead 
in  its  march.  So  rapid  and  invincible  is  the  current,  that  those 
who  row  the  most  vigorously,  and  think  to  turn  the  tide  or  neu- 
tralize  the  descent  of  the  stream,  find  themselves  insensibly 


292 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


carried  far  beyond  the  horizon  on  which  they  had  fixed  their  eyes 
and  their  hearts,  and  in  an  hour  of  reflection  measure  with  aston¬ 
ishment  the  length  of  way  they  have  passed.  It  is  now  nearly 
half  a  century  since  this  revolution,  already  ripe  in  ideas,  broke 
out  into  action.  At  first  it  was  only  a  battle,  then  a  ruin;  the 
dust  of  this  struggle  and  this  ruin  obscured  every  thing  for  a 
long  time — no  one  knew  for  what,  on  what  ground,  or  under  what 
banner  he  was  fighting.  Each  drew,  as  in  the  night,  upon  his 
friends  or  his  brothers ;  reaction  followed  upon  action ;  excesses 
stained  every  banner ;  one  withdrew  in  horror  from  a  cause 
which  crime  pretended  to  serve,  but  which  it  destroyed,  as  it  does 
all  things  :  the  mind  passed  from  one  excess  to  another,  and  could 
understand  nothing  of  the  tumultuous  movements,  the  vicissitudes 
of  the  battle;  for  it  was  a  battle, — that  is  to  say,  confusion  and 
disorder,  triumph  and  rout,  enthusiasm  and  discouragement.  At 
length  we  begin  to  comprehend  the  providential  plan  of  this  great 
action  between  ideas  and  men.  The  dust  is  laid,  and  the  horizon 
is  cleared  up.  We  see  the  positions  which  have  been  carried 
and  lost, — the  opinions  which  have  fallen  in  the  battle,  those 
which  have  been  mortally  wounded,  those  which  survive,  and 
those  which  triumph  or  are  to  triumph :  we  understand  the  past, 
— we  understand  the  age, — we  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  future. 
This  is  a  grand  and  rare  moment  for  the  human  mind.  It  is 
conscious  of  its  own  powers,  and  of  the  great  work  it  is  perform¬ 
ing ;  it  has  almost  acquired  an  insight  into  futurity*.  When  a 
revolution  is  fully  understood,  it  is  achieved  :  its  success  may  be 
slow,  but  can  be  no  longer  doubtful.  The  new  opinion,  if  it  has 
not  yet  conquered  its  ground,  has  at  least  gained  an  arena  for  its 
infallible  arm.  That  arm  is  the  press, — the  daily  and  universal 
revelation  which  surrounds  us  on  all  sides,  and  is  to  the  spirit  of 
innovation  and  amelioration  what  powder  and  cannon  were  to  the 
first  employers  of  them — victory  assured  in  a  powerful  faculty. 
Political  philosophers  then  are  no  longer  obliged  to  fight,  but  to 
moderate  and  direct  this  invincible  arm  of  the  new  civilization. 

The  past  has  rolled  away,  the  arena  is  free,  the  space  is  va¬ 
cant  :  equality  of  rights  is  an  admitted  principle  ;  liberty  of  dis¬ 
cussion  is  consecrated  in  the  forms  of  government,  power  has  re¬ 
mounted  to  its  source  ;  the  interest  and  reason  of  all  are  collected 
in  institutions  which  have  more  to  fear  from  weakness  than  from 
tyranny  ;  words  spoken  or  written  have  a  right  to  make  their  ap¬ 
peal  always,  and  in  all  places,  to  the  understanding  of  all.  This 
grand  tribunal  of  reason  governs,  and  will  govern  more  and  more, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


293 


all  the  other  powers  emanating  from  it :  it  agitates,  and  will  con¬ 
tinue  to  agitate,  all  questions,  social,  religious,  political,  or  na¬ 
tional,  with  the  force  which  opinion  lends  it,  and  in  proportion  to 
the  growth  of  conviction,  until  human  reason,  enlightened  by  the 
ray  it  has  pleased  God  to  send  it,  shall  have  resumed  the  posses¬ 
sion  of  the  entire  moral  world,  and,  satisfied  with  its  logical  la¬ 
bors,  shall  say,  with  the  Creator,  “  What  I  have  made  is  good 
then  shall  rest  for  a  while,  if  there  be  rest  in  heaven  or  in  earth. 

But  the  social  system  is  complicated.  The  solution  of  domestic 
difficulties  necessarily  imposes  a  similar  solution  of  questions  of 
foreign  policy.  A  chain  of  connection  pervades  the  world,  and  one 
fact  invariably  reacts  upon  another:  let  us  consider  then  what 
ought  logically  to  be  the  plan  and  action  of  European  politics,  as  re¬ 
gards  the  East.  I  say,  European;  for  although  in  outward  forms 
the  constitutional,  or,  to  speak  more  properly,  the  rational  system  at 
present  prevails  only  in  France,  England,  Spain,  and  Portugal,  yet 
it  every  where  prevails  in  opinion  :  reflecting  men  are  all  on  its 
side,  the  people  of  all  countries  actuated  by  its  spirit;  the  moral 
revolution  once  accomplished,  or  even  commenced,  that  of  forms 
soon  follows  ;  the  opportunity  only  is  wanting,  and  it  becomes 
merely  a  question  of  time.  Europe  upholds  a  variety  of  forms, 
but  already  acknowledges  but  one  spirit — the  spirit  of  renovation, 
and  of  the  government  of  men  by  the  law  of  reason.  France  and 
England  are  the  two  countries  charged  in  these  latter  days  to  pro¬ 
mulgate,  and  by  their  own  experience  to  justify,  opinions.  Glo¬ 
rious  and  fatal  mission  !  France,  the  most  adventurous,  has  taken 
the  lead,  and  is  at  this  moment  far  in  advance  ;  let  her  then  be 
the  first  subject  of  our  meditations. 

Glorious  but  perilous  is  the  career  opened  to  France  ;  she  is 
the  guide  of  nations,  but  is  herself  a  stranger  to  the  path,  and, 
while  feeling  a  way  for  the  social  community,  may  be  herself  in¬ 
gulfed  in  an  unseen  abyss:  all  the  hostility  to  experience  which 
still  resists  innovation  throughout  Europe,  is  set  in  motion  against 
her.  In  religion,  in  philosophy,  in  politics,  all  who  are  averse  to 
reason,  abhor  France  ;  all  the  secret  aspirations  of  men  whose 
minds  are  retrograde  and  immovably  linked  to  the  past,  are  for 
her  ruin  ;  she  is  to  them  the  symbol  of  their  decline,  the  living 
evidence  of  their  impotency,  and  of  the  falsehood  oi  their  prophe¬ 
cies  ;  her  prosperity  disproves  their  doctrines,  which  her  over¬ 
throw  would  verify  ;  all  attempts  for  the  amelioration  of  human 
institutions  would  fall  with  her ;  but  vehement  acclamations 
would  be  heard  ;  the  world  would  remain  in  subjection  to  tyr- 


294 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


anny  and  prejudice.  The  supporters  of  prejudice  and  tyranny 
therefore,  passionately  clamor  for  her  subversion.  They  an¬ 
nounce  it  as  the  sequel  of  her  every  movement ;  they  hope  it  on 
every  occasion  :  but  France  is  strong,  stronger  by  far  in  the  liv¬ 
ing  spirit  which  animates  her,  than  in  the  number  of  her  soldiers. 
She  alone  has  faith  in,  and  a  clear  and  generous  perception  of  the 
great  universal  cause  for  which  she  contends ;  military  machines 
are  opposed  to  her,  she  brings  martyrs  to  the  arena.  Conviction 
is  more  powerful  than  an  army;  France,  ruined  in  her  finances, 
rent  by  divisions,  oppressed  by  tyranny,  ensanguined  by  execu¬ 
tioners  within — attacked  from  without  by  her  own  children  leagued 
in  arms  with  united  Europe,  has  shown  the  world  that  she  can¬ 
not  perish  by  external  dangers.  Those  from  within  are  more  se¬ 
rious  ;  they  result  from  her  new  situation:  a  transition  is  al¬ 
ways  a  crisis ;  and  the  consequences,  foreseen  or  unforeseen,  of 
a  new  organic  principle,  inevitably  produce  unexpected  phe¬ 
nomena  in  the  social  state  of  a  great  people.  The  immediate  con¬ 
sequences  of  the  Revolution  in  France,  and  the  accidental  results 
of  the  crisis  she  has  just  passed  through,  are  numerous:  I  shall 
consider  only  the  principal. 

Equality  of  right  produced  equality  of  pretension  and  ambi¬ 
tion  among  all  classes  ;  universal  aspirings  after  power,  unlimited 
competition  for  all  offices,  the  obstruction  of  all  professions  ;  rival¬ 
ry,  jealousy,  envy  between  so  many  candidates  pressing  at  the 
same  time  towards  the  same  goal ;  a  perpetual  elbowing  of  tal¬ 
ents,  cupidity,  and  self-love,  at  the  gate  of  all  departments  of  the 
public  service  ;  a  consequent  instability  in  all  public  functions,  and 
a  throng  of  repulsed  and  envenomed  forces  flowing  back  upon  so¬ 
ciety,  and  always  ready  to  revenge  themselves  upon  her. 

The  liberty  of  discussion  and  inquiry  secured  to  the  enfran¬ 
chised  press,  has  engendered  a  spirit  of  dispute  and  controversy 
without  candor,  a  professional  and  systematic  opposition  ;  a  cyni¬ 
cal  character,  which  by  dint  of  wordy  logic  scares  away  truth 
and  moderation  ;  misleads  and  excites  ignorance ;  is  ever  ready 
to  underrate  the  chief  requisite  of  nations — power,  in  whatever 
hands  ;  terrifies  honest  but  timid  men,  and  puts  arms  in  the  hands 
of  all  the  evil  passions  of  the  time  and  the  country. 

The  general  diffusion  of  instruction — that  first  necessity  of  the 
people,  from  whom  it  has  been  so  long  withheld — produces  upon 
them  as  its  immediate  result  a  bewilderment  of  ideas  not  yet  fully 
understood,  a  sort  of  vertigo  of  the  mind  too  suddenly  enlightened  : 
they  are  like  men  who,  after  long  languishing  in  total  darkness, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


295 


are  at  once  incautiously  exposed  to  the  full  flood  of  day,  or  too 
plentifully  supplied  with  food  when  nearly  perishing  with  hun¬ 
ger  ;  the  one  is  dazzled,  and  for  the  time  at  least  blinded  ;  the  oth¬ 
er  is  in  danger  of  losing  his  life  from  an  excess  of  the  aliment 
which  should  have  restored  it;  but  it  does  not  follow  that  the 
bread  or  the  light  is  fatal — the  transition  alone  is  injurious.  So 
it  is  with  general  instruction  :  its  first  effect  is  to  generate  a  su¬ 
perabundance  of  capacities  demanding  employment  in  society ; 
a  want  of  equilibrium  between  faculties  and  occupations,  which 
may  and  must  elicit  for  a  time  serious  dissonances  in  the  political 
harmony,  till  the  balance  shall  be  re-adjusted  by  these  multiplied 
capacities  creating  each  for  itself  a  proper  mode  of  action. 

Again,  the  manufacturing  stimulus  withdraws  the  population 
from  domestic  feelings,  and  from  the  peaceful  labors  of  agricul¬ 
ture,  so  conducive  to  moral  habits ;  it  over-excites  labor  by  the 
sudden  rise  of  profits,  which  as  suddenly  and  irregularly  fall  back  ; 
it  accustoms  to  the  luxury  and  vices  of  cities,  men  who  can  never 
afterwards  return  to  the  simplicity  and  mediocrity  of  rural  life; 
and  thus  accumulates  those  masses  of  population  to-day  insuffi¬ 
cient  for  the  demand,  to-morrow  deprived  of  employment,  and  by 
their  destitution  a  prey  to  sedition  and  disorder. 

The  populace,  a  numerous  class,  imperceptible  in  theoretical, 
despotic,  and  aristocratical  governments,  where  it  is  overshadowed 
indeed  by  the  possessors  of  the  soil,  but  finds  protection  under 
their  shade,  and  a  guarantee  at  least  of  existence  in  their  pa¬ 
tronage, — now,  thrown  on  its  own  resources  by  the  suppression 
of  its  patrons,  and  by  the  system  of  individuality,  is  in  a  worse 
condition  than  ever, — has  achieved  barren  rights  without  the 
means  of  subsistence,  and  will  shake  the  foundations  of  society 
till  sociality  shall  have  succeeded  to  individuality. 

The  condition  of  this  populace  has  given  rise  to  the  question 
of  property  which  is  now  every  where  mooted  ;  a  question  which 
would  be  resolved  by  the  law  of  the  strongest,  were  it  not  easily 
resolved  by  reason,  policy,  and  social  charity.  Charity  is  sociali¬ 
ty  ; — selfishness  is  individuality.  Charity,  as  well  as  policy, 
commands  man  not  to  abandon  his  fellow-creatures  to  themselves, 
but  to  come  to  their  aid — to  form  a  sort  of  mutual  security  on 
equitable  conditions  between  society  in  possession  and  society  not 
in  possession.  She  says  to  the  proprietor,  “  Thou  shalt  preserve 
thy  property  ;”  for,  despite  the  alluring  dream  of  a  community  of 
wealth,  tried  in  vain  by  Christianity  and  by  philanthropy,  proper¬ 
ty  appears  to  have  been  at  all  periods,  from  the  earliest  to  the 


296 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


present,  the  sine  qua  non  of  all  society  :  without  it  there  is  neither 
domestication,  labor,  nor  civilization.  But  she  adds,  “  Thou 
wilt  remember  that  the  right  of  property  was  not  instituted  for  thee 
alone,  but  for  mankind  at  large  ;  thou  enjoyest  it  only  on  the  con¬ 
ditions  of  justice,  utility,  distribution  to  all  :  thou  wilt  therefore 
supply  thy  brother,  from  the  superfluity  of  thy  possessions,  with 
the  means  and  elements  of  labor  necessary  to  his  acquiring  pos¬ 
sessions  in  his  turn  ;  thou  wilt  recognize  a  right  superior  to  the 
right  of  property — the  right  of  humanity  l”  This  is  justice,  and 
this  is  policy  ;  for  they  are  one  and  the  same  thing. 

From  all  the  facts  arising  out  of  the  new  order  of  things,  one 
incontestable  requisite  results  for  France  and  for  Europe — ex¬ 
pansion  :  it  is  of  imperative  necessity  that  expansion  without 
should  bear  some  proportion  to  the  immense  expansion  within 
produced  by  the  revolution  which  all  things  are  undergoing. 
Without  that  outward  expansion,  how  shall  we  obviate  the  perils 
I  have  just  pointed  out  ?  How  prescribe  equality  in  rights  and 
deny  it  in  facts?  How  admit  inquiry,  yet  resist  reason  and  its 
organ  the  press  ?  How  diffuse  information,  and  drive  back  upon 
themselves  the  capacities  which  it  multiplies  ?  How  give  activity 
to  manufactures,  and  provide  at  the  same  time  against  the  accu¬ 
mulations  of  population,  and  those  sudden  cessations  of  labor  and 
salary  which  they  bring  in  their  train  ?  How,  in  short,  restrain 
those  perpetually  increasing  masses  of  the  populace,  armed,  un¬ 
disciplined,  and  struggling  between  poverty  on  the  one  hand  and 
pillage  on  the  other  ?  How  save  property  from  the  doctrinal  and 
actual  aggressions  to  which  it  will  be  more  and  more  exposed  ? 
And  should  that  corner-stone  of  all  society  be  laid  prostrate,  how 
enable  society  itself  to  hold  together  ?  Where  then  would  be  the 
refuge  against  a  second  barbarism  ?  So  imminent  are  these 
dangers,  that  unless  the  anticipative  wisdom  of  the  European 
governments  devise  a  preservative  against  them,  the  ruin  of  the 
known  social  world  is  inevitable  within  a  given  time. 

Now,  by  a  wonderful  provision  of  Providence,  who  never  cre¬ 
ates  wants  without  at  the  same  time  creating  the  means  of  satis¬ 
fying  them,  it  happens,  that  at  the  moment  when  the  great  crisis 
of  civilization  takes  place  in  Europe,  and  when  the  new  necessi¬ 
ties  resulting  from  it  are  revealing  themselves  both  to  govern¬ 
ments  and  people,  a  great  crisis  of  an  inverse  order  takes  place  in 
the  East,  and  a  vast  void  is  there  offered  for  the  redundancy  of 
European  population  and  faculties.  The  excess  of  life  which  is 
overflowing  here  may  and  must  find  an  outlet  in  that  part  of  the 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


297 


world  ;  the  excess  of  force  which  overstrains  us  may  and  must 
find  employment  in  those  countries,  where  the  human  powers  are 
in  a  state  of  exhaustion  and  torpidity,  where  the  stream  of  popula¬ 
tion  is  stagnant  or  drying  up,  where  the  vitality  of  the  human 
race  is  expiring. 

The  Turkish  empire  is  crumbling  to  pieces,  and  threatens 
from  day  to  day  to  leave  to  anarchy  and  disorganized  barbarism, 
territories  devoid  of  inhabitants,  and  a  people  destitute  of  rulers. 
This  impending  ruin  of  the  Ottoman  empire  requires  not  hasten¬ 
ing  even  by  a  touch  of  the  finger  against  the  tottering  Colossus  ; 
it  is  accomplishing  itself  providentially  by  its  own  action,  and  by 
a  fatality  inherent  in  its  nature,  of  which  no  one  can  be  arraigned 
as  the  author,  and  which  it  is  not  in  the  power  of  the  Turks  or  of 
Europe  to  retard.  The  sinking  population  expires  from  the  ces¬ 
sation  of  its  own  vitality  ;  or  rather,  it  is  already  extinct.  The 
Mussulman  race  is  reduced  to  nothing  in  the  sixty  thousand 
square  leagues  of  which  its  immense  and  fertile  domain  is  com¬ 
posed.  Except  in  one  or  two  capitals,  there  are  no  Turks.  Let 
us  cast  our  eye  over  those  rich  and  beautiful  regions,  and  seek 
the  Ottoman  empire  ;  and  we  shall  find  it  nowhere  :  the  stupid, 
or  rather  the  inert  and  murderous  administration  of  the  conquer¬ 
ing  race  of  Osman,  has  every  where  created  a  desert,  or  has  per¬ 
mitted  the  conquered  people  to  aggrandize,  and  multiply,  while 
it  was  itself  daily  diminishing  and  expiring. 

The  coast  of  Africa  no  longer  remembers  the  origin  of  its 
institutions  and  the  domination  of  the  Turks.  The  Barbary  re¬ 
gencies  are  independent  in  fact ;  and  have  no  longer  that  frater¬ 
nity  of  customs,  and  that  sympathy  of  religion  with  the  Turks, 
which  constitute  a  shadow  of  nationality.  The  blow  struck  at 
Navarino  was  not  heard  at  Tunis  ;  the  fall  of  Algiers  was  not  felt 
at  Constantinople :  the  branch  is  separated  from  the  trunk.  The 
coast  of  Africa  is  not  inhabited  by  Turks  or  Arabs,  but  by  colonies 
of  freebooters,  superfluous  to  the  soil,  and  which  take  no  root  in  it ; 
which  have  neither  right,  nor  title,  nor  family  among  the  nations ; 
it  which,  like  a  vessel  without  a  flag,  are  the  legitimate  prey  of  the 
cannon  ;  upon  which  whoever  will  may  fire.  Turkey  is  not  there. 

Egypt,  peopled  by  Arabs,  and  alternately  submitting  to  all  the 
masters  of  Syria,  has  now  actually  detached  itself  from  the  em¬ 
pire.  Mehemet  Ali  attempts  the  resuscitation  of  the  empire  of  the 
Caliphs  ;  but  the  fanaticism  of  a  new  doctrine,  which  sharpened 
their  sabre,  no  longer  glitters  round  his.  Arabia,  divided  into 
tribes,  without  cohesion,  without  uniformity  of  customs  or  laws, 


298 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


accustomed  for  centuries  to  the  yoke  of  all  the  pachas,  is  far  from 
seeing  a  deliverer  in  Mehemet  Ali ;  she  does  not  even  regard  him 
as  a  civilizer,  restoring  her  from  barbarism  and  impotence  to  tac¬ 
tics  and  independence ;  she  sees  in  him  only  a  rebellious  and  for¬ 
tunate  slave,  desirous  of  aggrandizing  the  lot  which  fortune  has 
bestowed  upon  him — of  enriching  himself  alone  by  the  productions 
of  Egypt  and  Syria,  and  of  dying  without  a  master.  After  him, 
she  knows  she  must  fall  under  some  yoke,  and  cares  not  of  whom. 

The  walls  of  Bagdad,  on  the  confines  of  the  desert  of  Syria, 
enclose  only  a  mixed  population  of  Jews,  Christians,  Persians, 
and  Arabs  :  a  garrison  of  a  few  thousand  Turks,  commanded  by 
a  pacha,  who  revolts  or  is  expelled  every  two  or  three  years,  is 
insufficient  to  uphold  the  Turkish  nationality  among  a  population 
of  two  hundred  thousand  souls.  Bagdad  is  in  its  nature  a  free 
city — a  caravansary  belonging  to  all  Asia,  as  a  depot  for  its  inter¬ 
nal  commerce — a  Palmyra  in  the  desert.  Between  Bagdad  and 
Damascus  extend  the  vast  deserts  of  Syria  and  Mesopotamia, 
through  which  runs  the  Euphrates  :  neither  kingdoms,  nor  domin¬ 
ions,  nor  cities  are  here ;  here  are  only  the  ambulatory  tents  of 
unknown  and  independent  tribes,  who  have  no  nationality  but  their 
caprices,  who  acknowledge  no  country  and  no  master, — children 
of  the  desert,  who  hold  as  enemies  whoever  attempt  to  reduce 
them  to  subjection — yesterday  the  Turks,  to-day  the  Egyptians. 
Turkey  is  not  here. 

Damascus,  a  great  and  magnificent  town — a  holy  city,  where 
the  Mussulman  fanaticism  still  exists,  has  a  population  of  from  a 
hundred  to  a  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  souls  :  of  these,  thirty 
thousand  are  Christians,  seven  or  eight  thousand  are  Jews,  and 
above  a  hundred  thousand  Arabs.  A  handful  of  Turks  still  reign 
over  the  country  by  the  spirit  of  conquest  and  of  co-religion  ;  but 
Damascus,  a  city  of  storms  and  independence,  is  perpetually  re¬ 
volting,  massacres  its  pacha,  and  expels  the  Turks.  Aleppo,  a 
city  of  infinitely  less  importance,  is  in  the  same  case ;  but  its 
commerce  is  declining  and  itself  expiring  in  the  ruins  of  its  fre¬ 
quent  earthquakes,  The  towns  of  Syria  Proper,  from  Gaza  to 
Alexandretta,  including  the  two  cities  of  Homs  and  Hama,  are 
also  peopled  by  Arabs,  Syrian  Greeks,  Armenians,  and  Jews  :  the 
total  number  of  Turks  in  this  beautiful  and  extensive  territory 
does  not  exceed  thirty  or  forty  thousand  at  most,  The  Maronites,  ' 
a  sound,  vigorous,  intellectual,  warlike,  and  commercial  nation, 
occupy  Lebanon,  and  disdain  or  defy  the  Turks.  The  indepen¬ 
dent  and  courageous  tribes  of  the  Druses  and  Metoualis  form,  with 


299 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 

- - - 

?the  Maronites,  under  the  federal  government  of  the  Emir  Beschir, 
the  predominant  population  of  Syria  and  even  Damascus,  ready 
to  become  the  sovereign  power  in  these  countries,  the  moment  the 
dismemberment  of  the  empire  shall  abandon  them  to  their  natural 
resources.  Here  is  the  germ  of  a  great  people,  new  and  capable 
of  civilization  :  Europe  has  but  to  afford  it  encouragement,  and 
to  say,  Arise ! 

We  come  next  to  Mount  Taurus,  and  the  wide  extent  of  Car- 
amania,  or  Asia  Minor,  the  provinces  of  which  once  formed  seven 
kingdoms,  while  its  shores  were  thickly  studded  with  independent 
towns  or  flourishing  colonies  of  Greeks  and  Romans.  I  have 
traversed  all  these  shores,  I  have  inspected  all  their  gulfs  from 
Tarsus  to  Tchesme,  and  I  have  seen  nothing  but  fertile  solitudes, 
or  miserable  hamlets  inhabited  by  Greeks :  the  interior  affords 
pasturage  to  the  cattle  of  the  indomitable  tribe  of  Turcomans,  who 
wander  among  the  mountains  in  the  summer,  and  encamp  in  the 
plains  for  the  winter.  Adana,  Konia,  Kutaya,  and  Angora,  its 
principal  towns,  are  each  peopled  by  some  thousand  Turks : 
Smyrna  alone  is  the  great  centre  of  its  population  ;  it  contains 
about  a  hundred  thousand  souls,  more  than  half  of  whom  are 
Christians,  Greeks,  Armenians,  and  Jews.  Coasting  the  shores 
of  Asia  Minor,  we  come  to  the  beautiful  Greek  islands  of  Scio, 
Rhodes,  and  Cyprus.  The  latter  is  itself  a  kingdom ;  it  mea¬ 
sures  eighty  leagues  in  length,  by  twenty  in  breadth  :  has  con¬ 
tained  and  is  capable  of  supporting  a  population  of  several  mil¬ 
lions  ;  it  possesses  the  sky  of  Asia  with  the  soil  of  the  tropics  :  its 
present  inhabitants  are  about  thirty  thousand  Greeks  ;  and  sixty 
Turks,  enclosed  in  a  ruined  fortress  here,  represent  the  Ottoman 
power.  The  same  may  be  said  of  Rhodes,  Stanchio,  Samos, 
Scio,  and  Mytilene.  Hitherto,  where  are  the  Turks?  This  is, 
however,  the  finest  portion  of  their  empire. 

The  coasts  of  the  sea  of  Marmora  and  of  the  channel  of  the 
Dardanelles  present  likewise  some  small  towns,  dispersed  at  con¬ 
siderable  distances,  and  thinly  inhabited  by  a  poor  population 
half  Turkish  and  half  Greek.  The  Turks  in  these  countries,  in¬ 
cluding  those  of  Broussa,  can  scarcely  be  reckoned  at  more  than 
a  hundred  thousand  souls. 

Constantinople,  like  all  the  capitals  of  a  decaying  people, 
alone  presents  an  appearance  of  population  and  life  :  in  propor¬ 
tion  as  the  vitality  of  empires  recedes  from  the  extremities,  it 
concentrates  itself  in  the  heart.  There  was  also  a  time  when  the 
entire  Greek  empire  existed  in  Constantinople  ;  the  city  was  taken, 


300 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


and  the  empire  was  no  more.  Authors  are  not  agreed  respecting 
the  population  of  Constantinople,  which  is  differently  stated  from 
three  hundred  thousand  to  a  million  souls :  the  census  is  wanting, 
every  one  therefore  judges  from  private  data.  Mine  is  founded 
only  on  a  glance  cast  upon  the  great  developement  of  the  city, 
including  Scutari,  upon  the  shores  of  the  Golden  Horn,  the  sea  of 
Marmora,  and  the  coasts  of  Asia  and  Europe.  I  include  all  this 
under  the  name  of  Constantinople,  for  there  is  no  interruption  of 
houses.  The  denominations  of  quarters,  of  towns  and  villages, 
are  arbitrary  ;  it  is  but  a  single  city,  a  single  centre  of  popula¬ 
tion,  sending  out  its  lines  of  houses,  kiosks,  palaces,  or  villages, 
over  an  extent  of  fourteen  French  leagues  in  length,  sometimes  of 
a  considerable  depth,  sometimes  of  one  or  two  houses  only.  I 
believe  that  the  aggregate  of  this  population  may  amount  to  from 
six  to  seven  hundred  thousand  souls  :  not  more  than  one-third  of 
these  are  Turks  ;  the  remainder  are  Armenians,  Jews,  Christians, 
Franks,  Greeks,  and  Bulgarians.  The  Turkish  population  of 
Constantinople  may  be  taken,  then,  according  to  my  estimate,  at 
from  two  to  three  hundred  thousand  souls.  I  did  not  visit  the 
shores  of  the  Black  Sea ;  but  according  to  the  excellent  and  con¬ 
scientious  narrative  of  M.  Fontanier’s  travels,  published  in  1834, 
the  indigenous  population  predominates  in  those  districts,  and  the 
Turks  diminish  in  number  there,  as  well  as  in  the  provinces  of  the 
empire  which  I  have  traversed. 

After  the  capital,  the  only  great  town  of  European  Turkey  is 
Adrianople,  which  may  reckon  from  thirty  to  forty  thousand 
Turks:  Philippopoli,  Sophia,  Nissa,  Belgrade,  and  the  little  inter¬ 
mediate  towns,  an  equal  number.  I  apprehend  the  number  of 
Turks  in  those  portions  of  the  empire  which  I  have  not  visiled, 
will  amount  on  the  whole  to  about  three  hundred  thousand.  Servia 

S' 

and  Bulgaria  will  scarcely  produce  a  Turk  to  a  village ;  and  I 
suppose  the  case  may  be  the  same  in  the  other  provinces  of  Tur¬ 
key  in  Europe.  Allowing,  then,  for  the  errors  which  I  may  have 
committed,  and  attributing  to  the  interior  of  Asia  Minor  a  much 
larger  population  than  appears  to  the  eye,  or  than  the  relations  of 
travelers  warrant,  I  do  not  think  that  the  total  existing  Turkish 
population  can  be  estimated  at  more  than  two  or  three  millions  of 
souls  ;  I  am  indeed  far  from  believing  that  it  should  be  stated  so 
high.  Here  then  is  the  conquering  race,  reared  on  the  borders 
of  the  Caspain  Sea,  melting  away  under  the  sun  of  the  Mediter¬ 
ranean  ;  here  then  is  Turkey  possessed,  or  rather  already  lost, 
by  this  small  number  of  men  :  for  while  the  doctrine  of  fatalism, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


301 


the  inertness  which  is  consequent  upon  it,  the  immutability  of 
institutions,  and  the  barbarism  of  the  administration,  reduce  almost 
to  nothing  the  conquerors  and  masters  of  Asia,  their  slaves,  the 
Christian  races  of  the  empire,  the  Armenians,  Greeks,  and  Ma- 
ronites,  and  the  race  of  conquered  Arabs,  increase  and  multiply 
through  the  natural  effect  of  their  customs,  their  religion,  and 
their  activity.  The  number  of  slaves  immensely  surpases  the 
number  of  oppressors ;  the  Greeks  of  the  Morea,  a  feeble  and 
miserable  population,  have,  single-handed,  in  a  moment  of  energy, 
cleared  the  Peloponnesus  of  Turks;  Moldavia  and  Wallachia 
have  thrown  off  the  yoke  ;  the  islands  would  be  all  freed  but  for 
the  European  treaty  which  guarantees  them  to  the  Sultan ;  the 
whole  of  Arabia  is  dissected  amongst  tribes  unknown  to  each 
other,  molested  alternately  by  the  Turks  and  by  the  Egyptians, 
and  dominated  in  her  most  energetic  portions  by  the  great  schism 
of  the  Wahabees;  two-thirds  of  the  Armenians  are  snatched  from 
the  Turkish  power  by  the  Russians  and  Persians  ;  the  Georgians 
are  Russians ;  the  Maronites  and  the  Druses  will  be  masters  of 
Syria  and  Damascus,  as  soon  as  it  is  seriously  their  will  to  be  so : 
the  Bulgarians  are  a  numerous  and  healthy  population,  still  tri¬ 
butary,  but  themselves  more  numerous  and  better  organized  than 
the  Turks,  capable  of  casting  off  their  subjection  with  a  word. 
This  word  the  Servians  have  pronounced,  and  their  magnificent, 
forests  already  begin  to  be  opened  by  roads,  towns,  and  villages  ; 
Prince  Milosch,  their  chief,  admits  Turks  at  Belgrade  only  as 
allies,  no  longer  as  masters.  The  spirit  of  conquest,  the  soul  of 
the  Osmanlis,  is  extinct  ;  the  spirit  of  armed  proselytism  has  long 
since  vanished  from  among  them  :  their  force  of  impulsion  is 
gone  ;  their  force  of  conservation,  which  should  reside  in  an  uni¬ 
form,  enlightened,  and  progressive  administration,  exists  only  in 
the  head  of  Mahmoud  :  popular  fanaticism  is  dead  with  the  janis¬ 
saries,  and  if  the  janissaries  could  revive,  barbarism  would  revive 
with  them  :  a  miracle  of  genius  would  be  necessary  to  resuscitate 
the  empire  ;  Mahmoud  has  heart,  but  not  genius :  he  assists  in 
producing  his  own  ruin,  and  encounters  only  obstacles  where  a 
stronger  and  more  expansive  mind  would  find  instruments ;  he  is 
reduced  to  depending  for  support  upon  the  Russians,  his  natural 
and  immediate  enemies.  This  policy  of  weakness  and  despair 
ruins  him  in  the  opinions  of  his  people  ;  he  is  become  the  shadow 
only  of  a  Sultan  assisting  in  the  dismemberment  of  his  empire ; 
pressed  between  Europe,  which  protects  him,  and  Mehemet  Ali, 
who  threatens  him  if  he  declines  the  humiliating  assistance  of  the 
VOL.  II.  14 


302 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


Russians,  Ibrahim  arrives  and  overthrows  him  by  his  presence  : 
if  he  combats  Ibrahim,  France  and  England  confiscate  his  fleets, 
and  encamp  on  the  shores  of  the  Dardanelles  ;  if  he  enters  into 
alliance  with  Ibrahim,  he  becomes  the  slave  of  his  slave,  and 
finds  a  prison  or  death  in  his  own  seraglio.  The  energy  of 
heroism  and  an  effort  of  sublime  despair  alone  could  save  him, 
and  restore  for  a  while  the  Ottoman  glory.  To  close  on  either 
side  the  Dardanelles  and  the  Bosphorus,  to  make  an  appeal  to 
southern  Europe,  and  to  all  that  remains  of  Islamism,  and  to 
march  himself  against  Ibrahim  and  the  Russians, — these  are  the 
only  means  of  recovery  yet  open  to  him :  but  suppose  them 
adopted  and  successful,  the  empire,  glorious  for  a  moment,  would 
not  the  less  decompose  itself  immediately  afterwards  ,  the  only 
permanent  result  would  be,  that  its  fall  would  be  enlightened  with 
a  halo  of  heroism,  and  that  the  race  of  Othman  would  set  as  it 
rose,  in  a  triumph. 

Now  that  we  have  seen  the  state  of  Europe,  and  that  of  the 
Ottoman  empire,  what  line  of  conduct  should  political  fore¬ 
sight  adopt  ?  How  should  Europe  act,  consistently  with  the 
policy  of  humanity,  not  of  a  blind  and  stupid  selfishness  ?  The 
routine  of  diplomacy,  which  repeats  its  axioms,  when  once  re¬ 
ceived,  long  after  they  have  ceased  to  have  a  rational  meaning, 
and  which  trembles  to  have  a  real  and  serious  question  to  discuss, 
because  it  has  neither  intellect  nor  energy  to  resolve  it,  has  de¬ 
clared  that  the  Ottoman  empire  must  be  supported  on  all  sides,  as 
a  neccessary  counterpoise  to  Russian  power  in  the  East. 

If  an  Ottoman  empire  really  existed — if  there  were  still  Turks 
capable  of  creating  and  organizing,  not  an  army  only,  but  a  gov¬ 
ernment,  which  might  observe  the  rear  of  the  Russian  empire, 
and  give  her  serious  disquiet,  while  southern  Europe  engaged 
her  in  front, — then  perhaps,  this  might  be  conservative  policy. 
It  would  be  hardihood  or  madness  to  say  to  Europe,  Efface  from 
the  map  an  existing  empire,  full  of  life  ;  lift  an  immense  weight 
from  the  ill  adjusted  equilibrium  of  the  body  politic  ;  the  world 
will  not  perceive  the  change.  But  the  Ottoman  empire  no  long¬ 
er  exists  except  in  name  ;  its  life  is  extinct — its  weight  no  longer 
sways  the  balance ;  it  is  nothing  but  a  vast  void,  which  your 
anti-human  policy  wishes  to  leave  vacant,  instead  of  filling  it 
with  a  healthy  and  living  population,  which  nature  has  already 
planted  there,  and  which  you  might  replenish  and  propagate 
yourselves.  Do  not  precipitate  the  fall  of  the  Ottoman  empire — 
do  not  usurp  the  office  of  fate — do  not  assume  the  responsibility 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


303 


of  Providence ;  but  do  not  sustain  by  an  illusory  and  culpable 
policy  that  phantom  to  which  you  can  at  best  give  only  an  ap¬ 
pearance  and  attitude  of  life, — for  it  is  dead.  Do  not  become 
the  allies  of  barbarism  and  Islamism,  against  the  more  advanced 
stages  of  civilization,  reason,  and  religion,  which  they  oppress  ; 
nor  the  accomplices  of  the  slavery  and  depopulation  of  the  finest 
parts  of  the  world.  Let  destiny  accomplish  its  purposes — ob¬ 
serve,  wait  and  be  ready. 

When  at  length  the  empire  shall  sink  of  itself,  and,  under¬ 
mined  by  Ibrahim,  or  some  other  pacha,  shall  be  dismembered 
alike  in  its  northern  and  southern  provinces,  you  will  have 
a  simple  question  to  decide.  Will  you  make  war  upon  Russia, 
to  prevent  her  inheriting  Constantinople  and  the  coasts  of  the 
Black  Sea?  Will  you  make  war  upon  Austria,  to  prevent 
her  inheriting  one  half  of  Turkey  in  Europe  ?  Will  you  make 
war  upon  England,  to  prevent  her  inheriting  Egypt  and  the 
route  to  India  by  the  Red  Sea? — upon  France,  to  prevent  her 
colonizing  Syria  and  the  Island  of  Cyprus  ? — upon  Greece,  to 
prevent  her  completing  her  territories  by  the  addition  of  the 
coasts  of  the  Mediterranean,  and  the  beautiful  isles  which  bear 
her  name,  and  are  inhabited  by  her  own  people  ? — on  all  the  world, 
in  short,  lest  any  one  should  profit  by  these  magnificent  ruins  ? 
Or  must  we  come  to  a  mutual  understanding,  and  divide  them 
amongst  the  human  race,  under  the  patronage  of  Europe,  that 
the  human  race  may  multiply  and  flourish  in  this  beautiful  cli¬ 
mate,  and  that  civilization  may  resume  its  station  there  ?  These 
are  the  two  questions  which  a  congress  of  the  powers  of  Eu¬ 
rope  will  have  to  decide.  Truly,  the  answer  is  not  doubtful. 

If  you  resolve  on  war,  you  will  have  war,  with  all  the  evils 
—all  the  ruin  that  attend  it:  you  will  injure  Europe,  and  Asia, 
and  yourselves  ;  and  the  war  having  ended  from  utter  weariness, 
nothing  which  you  intended  to  prevent  will  be  prevented.  The 
force  of  circumstances — the  irresistible  march  of  events — the  in¬ 
fluence  of  national  sympathies  and  religion — the  power  of  terri¬ 
torial  positions,  will  have  their  inevitable  effect :  Russia  will  oc¬ 
cupy  the  coasts  of  the  Black  Sea  and  Constantinople — the  Black 
Sea  is  a  Russian  lake,  of  which  Const  ntinople  is  the  key  ;  Aus¬ 
tria  will  spread  herself  over  Servia,  Bulgaria  and  Macedonia,  to 
keep  pace  with  Russia ;  France,  England  and  Greece,  after 
disputing  the  road  for  some  time,  will  respectively  take  possession 
of  Egypt,  Syria,  Cyprus,  and  the  Islands.  The  effect  will  be 
the  same;  but,  meanwhile  torrents  of  blood  will  have  flowed,  by 


304 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


sea  and  land ;  the  chances  of  battle  will  have  substituted  forced 
and  arbitrary,  for  natural  and  rational  division  of  territory  ;  years 
of  useful  colonization  will  have  been  lost ;  and  during  these  per¬ 
haps  lengthened  years,  Turkey  in  Europe  and  Asia  will  have 
been  the  prey  of  anarchy  and  incalculable  calamities.  You  will 
find  more  extensive  deserts  than  even  the  Turks  had  left.  Eu¬ 
rope  will  have  receded  instead  of  following  her  accelerated 
movement  of  civilization  and  prosperity,  and  Asia  will  have  rested 
still  longer  in  her  bed  of  death.  If  reason  presides  over  the  des¬ 
tinies  of  Europe,  can  she  hesitate  ?  and  if  she  hesitates,  what 
will  history  say  of  her  governments  and  rulers  ?  It  will  attest 
that  the  political  world  has  been  directed  in  the  nineteenth  cen¬ 
tury  by  suicidal  selfishness  and  folly  ;  and  that  its  cabinets  and 
subjects  have  rejected  the  most  magnificent  present  which  Prov¬ 
idence  has  ever  offered  to  the  necessities  of  an  epoch,  and  to  the 
progress  of  mankind. 

Let  us  now  see  what  ought  to  be  done.  Let  a  congress 
be  assembled  of  the  principal  powers  bordering  on  the  Ottoman 
empire,  or  having  important  interests  in  the  Mediterranean,  to 
establish  the  principle  that  Europe  withdraws  from  all  action 
or  direct  influence  upon  the  internal  affairs  of  Turkey,  and 
abandons  it  to  its  own  vitality  and  the  chances  of  its  destiny  ; 
and  to  agree  beforehand,  that  in  case  of  the  fall  of  this  empire, 
whether  by  a  revolution  at  Constantinople,  or  by  successive  dis¬ 
memberments,  the  European  powers  shall  take,  under  the  title 
of  protectorates,  such  portions  of  its  dominions  as  shall  have  been 
assigned  to  each  by  the  stipulations  of  the  congress  ;  that  these 
protectorates,  the  territories  of  which  shall  be  defined  and  limited 
according  to  contiguity  of  situation — security  of  frontier — analogy 
of  religion,  customs,  and  interests,  shall  maintain  only  the  para¬ 
mount  authority  of  the  respective  powers,  without  interfering  with 
the  local  sovereignties  pre-existing  in  the  protected  provinces. 
This  suzerctinele ,  or  paramount  protectorship,  thus  recognized  as  a 
European  institution,  should  be  defined  to  consist  principally  in 
the  right  of  occupying  certain  portions  of  the  territory  and  coasts 
— of  founding  there  free  cities,  European  colonies,  or  trading 
ports.  The  several  nationalities — the  classifications  of  tribes — 
the  pre-existing  rights  of  every  kind,  should  be  recognized  and 
supported  by  the  protecting  power,  which  should  exercise  over  its 
'  assigned  territory  only  an  armed  and  civilizing  guardianship 
guaranteeing  its  existence  apd  the  elements  of  its  nationality, 
upder  the  banners  of  a  stropger  nationality, —preservipg  it  from 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


305 


invasion,  dismemberment  and  anarchy,  and  furnishing  it  with  the 
means  of  pacifically  developing  its  commercial  and  industrial 
resources. 

These  points  established,  the  mode  of  action  and  influence  of 
the  protectorates  over  the  portions  of  the  East  which  should  de¬ 
volve  upon  them  would  vary  according  to  their  respective  locali¬ 
ties  and  customs,  and  would  flow  from  peculiar  circumstances  : 
matters  would  naturally  take  the  following  course  : — 

In  the  first  instance,  one  or  several  European  free  towns 
would  be  founded  upon  such  parts  of  the  coast  or  territory  as  from 
nature  and  circumstances  should  appear  the  most  eligible.  These 
towns,  open,  as  well  as  the  whole  territory,  to  all  the  protected 
population,  would  be  governed  by  the  laws  of  the  mother  country, 
or  by  an  especial  colonial  legislation  :  on  settling  in  them,  the 
protected  people  should  obtain  the  rights  of  citizenship,  and  soon 
after  all  those  enjoyed  by  the  native  subjects  of  the  protecting 
power ;  they  should  cease  to  be  subject  to  the  oppressive  and 
barbarous  legislations  of  their  tribe  or  their  prince ;  they  should 
be  fully  invested  with  the  right  of  property  and  its  transmission, 
which  is  almost  every  where  wanting  in  these  lands,  and  which  is 
the  first,  and  chief  lever  of  its  civilization  ;  they  should  enjoy  such 
immunities  of  commerce,  industry,  and  arms,  as  the  policy  of  the 
protectorate  should  confer  upon  them.  The  commercial  relations 
between  these  principal  centres  of  liberty,  property,  and  civiliza¬ 
tion,  would  inevitably  be  drawn  closer  and  closer ;  the  towns, 
villages,  and  tribes  would  soon  demand  in  mass  to  be  admitted  to 
the  benefits  of  compatriotism,  and  of  the  social  rights  which  would 
result  from  it ;  and  the  protected  country  would  pass  altogether  in 
a  few  years  within  the  pale  of  the  protecting  power.  A  uni¬ 
formity  of  laws,  and  of  political  and  social  institutions,  would  be 
promptly  and  liberally  established  ;  all  these  advantages  are  al¬ 
ready  warmly  appreciated  among  the  people  to  whom  they  would 
thus  be  extended.  Weary  of  the  tyranny  and  the  barbarous  ad¬ 
ministration  by  which  they  are  decimated — hungering  especially 
for  the  rights  of  property,  commerce,  and  individual  liberty, 
there  can  be  no  doubt  but  they  would  immediately  fill  to  an  over¬ 
flow  the  first  open  towns.  The  contagion  of  example,  and  the 
prosperous  security  enjoyed  by  these  towns  and  their  territories, 
would  seduce  the  entire  population  of  still  extending  circles. 
But  two  articles  would  require  to  be  respected  and  protected — 
their  customs  and  religion.  This  is  easy,  because  toleration  is 
the  law  of  Europe  and  good  sense,  and  the  inveterate  habit  of  the 


306 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


East.  All  sorts  of  worship  must  be  equally  protected,  in  perfect 
freedom  and  mutual  independence.  Some  purely  civil  conditions 
must  be  gradually  imposed  on  those  who  establish  themselves 
in  European  towns,  modifying  their  customs  with  respect  to 
legislation,  without  interfering  with  their  faith.  The  municipal 
and  protecting  law  must  know  nothing  of  a  plurality  of  wives 
or  of  slavery,  but  it  must  interdict  nothing  which  belongs  merely 
to  the  province  of  domestic  government  or  of  conscience. 

Each  protectorate  must  possess  two  sorts  of  legislation  ;  the 
one  general,  and  in  some  measure  feudal,  which  will  regulate  the 
general  connection  of  the  protected  people  and  tribes  amongst 
each  other  and  with  the  protecting  nation,  as  the  imposition  of 
taxes  and  the  militia  of  the  colony,  and  the  boundaries  of  the  ter¬ 
ritories  of  the  respective  dependent  tribes  ;  the  other,  a  European 
legislation  for  the  European  free  towns  analogous  to  that  of  the 
protecting  nation — a  legislative  model  incessantly  offered  to  the 
emulation  of  the  native  powers.  The  common  pact,  over  the  due 
execution  of  which  the  protectorate  would  watch,  must  only  ob. 
lige  these  various  races  of  men  who  inhabit  the  East,  differing 
from  each  other  in  tribes,  in  religion,  and  in  customs,  to  live 
together  in  peace  ;  it  would  habituate  them  to  a  community  of  in¬ 
terests  ;  would  teach  them,  for  certain  objects,  to  convene  delibe¬ 
rative  assemblies  of  their  respective  nations  and  tribes  ;  and  then 
to  choose  the  most  enlightened  among  themselves  as  deputies,  to 
deliberate  in  their  turn  with  the  deputies  of  other  nations  and  tribes 
on  interests  common  to  the  whole  protectorate ;  in  order  to  ac 
custom  them  by  degrees  to  a  beneficial  connection,  and  to  blend 
them  insensibly  rather  by  the  force  of  manners  than  of  laws.  The 
East  is  so  well  prepared  by  its  municipal  habits,  and  by  the  great 
diversity  of  its  races,  for  such  a  state  of  things,  that  the  protect¬ 
ing  nation  would  experience  no  difficulty,  except  in  a  few  great 
capitals,  as  Damascus,  Bagdad,  Cairo,  and  Constantinople. 
These  difficulties  must  not  be  overcome  by  force,  but  simply  by 
a  temporary  interdiction  of  intercourse  with  the  rest  of  the  pro¬ 
tected  territories.  The  cessation  of  commerce  is,  in  the  East,  a 
suspension  of  life.  Their  repentance  would  soon  purchase  recon¬ 
ciliation. 

The  possibility,  I  will  even  say  the  extreme  facility  of  such 
an  organization,  is  manifest  to  all  who  have  traveled  in  these 
countries.  Galling  subjection,  ruin,  depopulation,  absence  of  the 
right  of  property  and  legal  transmission — the  arbitrary  will  of  a 
pacha,  weighing  like  an  incubus  upon  fortune,  and  upon  life  itself, 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


307 


have  so  denationalized  those  beautiful  regions,  that  any  standard 
planted  there  on  the  above  conditions  would  quickly  rally  the  ma¬ 
jority  of  the  inhabitants  under  its  shadow.  They  are  for  the 
most  part  ripe  for  the  change :  all  the  population  of  Turkey  in 
Europe,  and  all  the  Greeks,  Armenians,  Maronites,  and  Jews,  are 
industrious,  agricultural,  and  commercial ;  give  them  only  pro¬ 
tection  of  property,  personal  security,  and  liberty,  and  they  will 
speedily  multiply,  and  cover  the  isles  and  the  two  continents.  In 
twenty  years,  the  measures  which  I  propose  will  have  created 
prosperous  nations,  and  we  shall  see  millions  of  men  advancing 
under  the  segis  of  Europe  to  a  new  civilization. 

But,  I  may  be  asked,  how  will  you  dispose  of  the  Turks  ? — 
The  empire  once  fallen,  divided,  and  dismembered, — the  Turks, 
shaken  off  by  all  the  insurgent  populations,  will  either  become 
blended  with  them,  or  flee  to  Constantinople  and  some  few  parts 
•of  Asia  Minor,  where  they  may  still  muster  a  majority.  They 
are  too  insignificant  in  numbers,  too  much  closed  in  by  implaca¬ 
ble  enemies,  too  visibly  struck  by  the  fatality  which  constitutes  a 
material  portion  of  their  creed,  to  re-conquer  their  wide  spreading 
domination  when  once  lost.  They  will  form  one  among  the  many 
nations  guaranteed  and  protected  by  the  European  power  which 
shall  accept  the  sovereignty  of  the  Bosphorus  of  Constantinople, 
or  of  Asia  Minor,  and  will  be  but  too  happy  in  the  defence  of  that 
shield  against  the  vindictive  aggressions  of  the  people  who  have 
endured  their  yoke.  They  will  retain  their  laws,  their  habits,  their 
creed,  till  habitual  contact  with  a  more  advanced  civilization 
shall  insensibly  lead  them  to  property,  industry,  commerce,  and 
all  the  social  benefits  which  flow  from  these.  Their  territory, 
their  relative  independence,  and  their  nationality,  will  remain 
under  the  guardianship  of  Europe,  till  their  complete  fusion  with 
the  other  free  nations  of  Asia.  Bid  the  plan  which  I  have  con¬ 
ceived  and  propose  depend  for  its  execution  on  violence,  on  the 
expatriation  and  forcible  dispossession  of  this  wreck  of  a  great  and 
generous  nation,  I  should  regard  it  as  a  crime.  The  Turks,  by 
■the  inherent  and  irreclaimable  viciousness  of  their  administration 
and  of  their  habits,  are  incapable  of  governing  their  present  ter¬ 
ritories  in  Europe  and  Asia,  or  in  either  of  them.  They  have  de¬ 
populated  the  countries  which  owned  their  sway,  and  have  des¬ 
troyed  themselves  by  the  slow  suicide  of  their  government :  but  as 
a  race  of  men,  they  are  still,  in  my  estimation,  the  first  and  most 
worthy  amongst  the  numerous  races  that  people  their  vast  empire  ; 
.their  character  is  the  noblest  and  most  dignified,  their  courage  is 


308 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


unimpeachable,  and  their  virtues,  religious,  civil,  and  domestic, 
are  calculated  to  inspire  every  impartial  mind  with  esteem  and  ad¬ 
miration.  Magnanimity  is  inscribed  on  their  foreheads  and  dis¬ 
played  in  their  actions  :  if  they  had  better  laws  and  a  more  en¬ 
lightened  government,  they  would  be  one  of  the  greatest  people 
the  world  has  seen.  All  their  instincts  are  generous.  They  are 
a  people  of  patriarchs,  of  contemplatists,  of  adorers,  of  philoso¬ 
phers, — and  when  their  cause  is  that  of  religion,  they  are  a  peo¬ 
ple  of  heroes  and  martyrs.  God  forbid  that  I  should  instigate  the 
extermination  of  such  a  race,  whom  I  believe  to  confer  an  honor 
on  humanity  !  But  as  a  nation,  they  are,  or  soon  will  be,  no  more. 
As  a  race  of  men,  they  must  be  saved,  with  those  whom  they  op¬ 
press  and  whose  propagation  they  impede,  by  the  direction  of  their 
destiny  and  that  of  Asia  being  at  a  decisive  moment  assumed  by 
more  competent  hands.  By  what  right  ?  it  may  be  asked.  By 
the  right  of  humanity  and  civilization.  It  is  not  the  right  of  power 
which  I  invoke  :  power  confers  no  right,  but  it  confers  a  capabi¬ 
lity.  Europe  combined  in  one  aim — the  preservation  and  civiliza¬ 
tion  of  the  human  race,  has  indisputably  the  capability  of  deciding 
the  fate  of  Asia.  It  is 'for  her  to  examine  herself,  and  to  ask  her¬ 
self  whether  that  capability  does  not  constitute  a  right,  whether  it 
does  not  impose  a  duty.  For  my  part,  I  hold  the  affirmative. 
No  cannon  need  be  fired  ;  no  violence,  no  confiscation,  no  pro¬ 
scription,  no  violation  of  religion  or  morals,  authorized.  A  reso¬ 
lution  only  is  to  be  taken,  a  protection  promulgated,  a  standard 
unfurled  ;  and  if  this  is  not  done,  twenty  years  of  unprofitable  war¬ 
fare  is  reserved  for  Europe  for  Asia,  anarchy,  ruin,  stagnation, 
depopulation  to  the  end  of  time !  Has  God  bestowed  upon  man 
so  magnificent  a  domain,  in  the  finest  portion  of  the  globe,  that  it 
may  be  left  sterile,  uncultivated,  or  ravaged  by  eternal  barba¬ 
rism  ? 

As  for  Europe  herself,  her  convulsed  and  revolutionary  state 
— the  exuberance  of  her  unemployed  population,  industry,  and 
intellectual  forces,  ought  to  lead  her  to  bless  that  Providence  which 
so  opportunely  opens  to  her  so  boundless  a  career  of  thought,  activity, 
noble  ambition,  civilizing  proselytism,  manufacturing  and  agricul¬ 
tural  industry  ;  offices  and  emoluments  in  every  shape  ;  fleets  and 
armies  to  direct ;  ports  to  construct ;  cities  to  erect ;  colonies  to 
found  ;  fertile  solitudes  to  cultivate  ;  new7  manufactures  to 
establish  ;  new  discoveries  to  turn  to  account ;  new  regions  to 
explore ;  alliances  to  attempt ;  young  and  sound  populations  to 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  HOLY  LAND. 


809 


educate  ;  systems  of  legislation  to  study  and  to  prove ;  religions 
to  investigate  and  rationalize  ;  fusions  of  people  and  of  customs 
to  consummate  ;  Europe,  Asia,  and  Africa  to  draw  nearer  to  each 
other,  and  to  unite  by  new  communications,  which  shall  leave  but 
the  interval  of  a  month  between  India  and  Marseilles,  and  place 
Cairo  in  connection  with  Calcutta. 

The  finest  climates  of  the  world ;  the  rivers  and  plains  of 
Mesopotamia  offering  their  currents  and  their  roads  as  channels 
for  the  infinitely  multiplied  activity  of  universal  commerce  ;  the 
mountains  of  Syria  furnishing  an  inexhaustible  depot  of  fuel  to 
innumerable  steam-vessels  ;  the  Mediterranean,  become  the  lake 
of  southern  Europe,  as  the  Euxine  already  is  of  Russia,  and  as 
the  Red  Sea  and  the  Persian  Gulf  are  of  England ;  nations,  now 
destitute  of  territory,  country,  rights,  laws  or  security,  dividing 
amongst  them,  under  the  shelter  of  European  legislation,  those 
districts  in  which  they  now  encamp,  and  overspreading  Asia 
Minor,  Africa,  Egypt,  Arabia,  Turkey  in  Europe,  and  the  Islands, 
with  an  industrious  population,  thirsting  after  the  knowledge  and 
the  productions  of  Europe.  What  a  picture  is  here  !  What  a 
prospect  for  the  three  continents !  What  a  limitless  sphere  of 
new  activity  for  the  faculties  and  the  wants  which  consume  us  ! 
What  elements  of  pacification,  of  domestic  order,  and  of  steady 
progression,  for  our  tempestuous  times ! — And  this  picture  is  a 
simple  truth  ;  a  truth  infallible,  easy,  certain.  Europe  wants 
only  just  opinions  and  generous  sentiments  to  realize  it :  a  word 
will  suffice  her  to  save  herself  while  preparing  a  glorious  futurity 
for  mankind. 

I  shall  not  here  discuss  the  limits  of  the  European  and  Asiatic 
protectorates,  and  the  compensations  to  which  those  limits  might 
lead  in  Europe  itself :  the  task  belongs  exclusively  to  the  agents 
of  the  principal  powers  assembled  in  a  secret  congress.  Estab¬ 
lished  nationalities  represent  in  some  degree  the  individual 
identity  of  the  people.  They  should  be  touched  as  little  as  pos¬ 
sible  in  negotiation  ;  war  alone  affects  them.  Such  compensa¬ 
tions  therefore  would  be  easily  granted,  and  need  not  produce  the 
interminable  discussion  and  perpetual  squabbles  which  are  always 
objected  against  them.  As  I  have  just  observed,  in  certain  cases 
capability  is  right.  The  lesser  powers  ought  not  to  embarrass 
the  greater,  in  whom  actually  resides  the  preponderating  voice, 
from  which  there  is  no  appeal,  in  the  great  European  council. 
When  Russia,  Austria,  England,  and  France  understand  each 


310 


A  PILGRIMAGE  TO  THE  IIOLY  LAND. 


other,  and  have  promulgated  a  firm  and  unanimous  decision,  who 
can  prevent  their  executing  whatever  their  dignity,  their  interests, 
and  the  welfare  of  the  world  shall  dictate  to  them  ? — Certainly  no 
one.  The  inferior  diplomacies  may  murmur,  may  intrigue,  may 
write ;  but  the  work  will  be  accomplished,  and  the  vigor  of  Eu¬ 
rope  renewed. 


APPENDIX. 


LETTER  FROM  THE  VISCOUNT  DE  MARCELLUS  TO  MONSIEUR  DE 

LAMARTINE. 

Of  your  travels  in  the  East,  my  dear  Lamartine,  I  have  as  yet  read  only 
the  extracts  inserted  in  the  various  journals ;  yet  I  cannot  resist  my  desire 
to  tell  you  how  much  I  am  indebted  to  you  for  a  renewal  of  bygone 
enjoyments.  You  have  given  new  life  to  my  receding  impressions ; 
I  have  been  restored  by  you,  if  there  be  not  too  much  pride  in  the 
idea,  to  those  grand  and  powerful  emotions  which  agitated  me  twelve 
years  ago  on  viewing  the  same  scenes.  At  that  time  I  devoted  -myself 
entirely  to  the  contemplation  of  their  majestic  beauties ;  the  Desert, 
Lebanon,  appeared  to  me  under  that  sublime  coloring  which  your  pencil 
has  revived  :  I  have  seen  the  same  ruins ;  I  have  climbed  the  same  moun¬ 
tains  ;  the  same  dust  has  cleaved  to  the  sandals  of  my  pilgrimage,  and  I 
cannot  be  mistaken  in  believing  that  this  fraternity  of  travels  and  of  reflec¬ 
tions  must  add  a  new  bond  to  our  friendship. 

You  have  mentioned  Lady  Hester  Stanhope,  and  since  I  first  met  with 
it,  I  have  repeatedly  read  and  re-read  your  affecting  episode :  I  have  medi¬ 
tated  upon  it,  as  upon  a  page  of  my  own  recollections,  imprinted  in  char¬ 
acters  of  fire  ;  you  have  transported  me  once  again  to  the  feet  of  that  lady, 
whose  portrait  I  have  not  dared  to  delineate,  and  upon  whom  you  have 
yourself  hesitated  to  pass  judgment.  My  impressions  at  that  time,  I  ac¬ 
knowledge,  were  almost  all  in  her  favor ;  whether  because  in  my  youth  I 
felt  a  more  lively  sympathy  in  this  mode  of  life,  differing  so  entirely  from 
all  others,  or  because  I  could  see  nothing  in  the  desert  that  was  not  grand 
and  novel.  I  also  embodied  these  impressions  in  a  faithful  narrative ;  but 
this  simple  and  unvarnished  recital  withered  as  a  leaf  before  the  wind,  and 
perished  in  that  gulf  of  records  which  has  swallowed  up  so  many  of  the 
political  sketches  that  you  and  I  have  attempted. 

When  Louis  the  Eighteenth  was  informed  of  my  visit  to  Lady  Hester, 
he  wished  to  be  made  acquainted  with  the  particulars  of  it,  and  desired  to 
converse  with  me  upon  the  subject.  It  is  to  Lady  Stanhope  that  I  am  in¬ 
debted  for  the  interest  with  which  some  of  my  adventures  in  the  East  were 
received  and  made  known  in  the  world  : — thus,  the  relation  of  my  prom¬ 
enades  to  Homer’s  School  with  the  young  daughters  of  Scio  in  the  latter 
days  of  their  life  and  of  their  liberty ;  the  details  of  the  discovery,  the  ac- 


312 


APPENDIX. 


quisition,  and  the  carrying  away  of  the  Venus  of  Milo ,  that  chef  cV oeuvre  of 
ancient  sculpture,  for  which  my  country,  with  some  pride  I  say  it,  is  in¬ 
debted  to  my  cares, — and  some  other  episodes  upon  my  travels, — obtained 
a  share  of  public  favor  at  the  time,  under  the  shelter  of  the  name  of  mine 
hostess  of  Lebanon  ;  and  if  I  did  not  attempt  to  make  the  public  participa¬ 
tors  in  my  admiration  of  her,  it  was  because  my  travels  were  connected 
with  a  political  mission.  You,  I  am  sure,  will  commend  me,  if  faithful  to 
the  duties  of  our  common  calling,  I  considered  that  it  imposed  upon  me  a 
rigorous  silence.  Detached  since  that  time  from  this  calling,  the  study  of 
my  life,  by  commotions  which  have  destroyed  so  many  and  important  in¬ 
terests,  I  have  still  thought  myself  bound  by  its  laws  even  when  I  did  not 
hesitate  to  retire  from  it,  and  nay  silence  has  accordingly  survived  my 
functions1. 

Relating  more  ably  than  myself  all  that  apart  from  politics  I  could  have 
said,  you  have  at  the  present  moment  awakened  my  recollections  :  and  you 
alone  shall  judge  whether  some  traits  which  I  have  preserved  are  worthy 
of  being  added  to  your  glowing  pictures. 

Lady  Hester  Stanhope,  then  more  connected  with  Europe  and  its  po¬ 
litical  existence,  had  not,  at  the  time  I  had  the  honor  of  seeing  her,  forgot¬ 
ten  the  world — but  she  certainly  despised  it.  She  had  not  yet  learned  of 
the  Syrian  philosophers  the  art  of  attributing  the  destinies  of  our  hemi¬ 
sphere  to  the  influence  of  the  stars  and  of  the  heavens  ;  she  still  referred 
them  to  a  higher  source.  Disgusted  with  the  religions  of  Europe,  although 
but  imperfectly  acquainted  with  them, — rejecting  the  numerous  sects  of 
the  desert,  whose  mysteries  she  had  solved,  she  had  created  a  Deism  of  her 
own,  and  preserved  nothing  of  the  Christian  religion  but  the  practice  of 
benevolence  and  the  doctrine  of  charity. 

The  niece  of  Pitt  had,  from  her  youth,  deeply  interested  herself  in  the 
discussions  of  the  British  Parliament.  Subsequently,  during  her  travels, 
she  had  studied  and  elucidated  the  views  of  the  European  cabinets  :  whence 
arose  the  severity  with  which,  in  our  conversation,  she  passed  judgment 
upon  the  men  who  for  the  last  thirty  years  had  ruled  the  world.  Of  these 
men,  many  have  fallen  from  their  high  estate  :  some  still  reign  ;  but  the 
greater  number  have  yielded  to  time.  Lady  Stanhope’s  decisions  stamped 
them  all  alike,  stigmatized  all  with  one  epithet :  and  almost  all  have  verified 
her  startling  predictions.  The  coloring  of  her  portraits,  her  disclosures, 
her  antipathies — inherited,  she  says,  from  her  uncle — I  should  not  be  jus¬ 
tified  in  revealing ;  but  of  her  distaste  for  Europe  I  may  be  allowed  to 
speak. 

“  Shall  you  ever  revisit  England  again  ?”  I  asked  her. — “  No,  never,” 
she  energetically  replied.  “Your  Europe!  It  is  so  insipid.  Leave  me 
my  desert.  What  should  I  return  to  Europe  for  ?  To  behold  nations 
worthy  of  their  fetters,  and  monarchs  unworthy  of  their  thrones  ?  Very 
shortly  your  worn-out  continent  will  be  shaken  to  its  base.  You  have 
seen  Athens;  you  are  going  to  see  Tyre.  Mark  the  remains  of  these 
noble  republics,  protectresses  of  the  arts ;  of  these  monarchies,  queens  of 
commerce  and  the  ocean  !  So  will  it  be  with  Europe.  She  is  going 
rapidly  to  decay.  Her  kings  are  no  longer  worthy  of  their  descent: 


APPENDIX. 


313 


they  fall,  either  by  death  or  by  means  of  their  misrule,  and  degenerate 
in  their  successors.  Her  aristocracy,  nearly  exterminated,  is  super¬ 
seded  by  a  pitiful  and  ephemeral  commonalty,  without  life  or  vigor. 
The  people,  and  those  of  the  laboring  class,  alone,  still  preserve  a  character 
and  some  virtue.  You  may  tremble  should  they  ever  learn  their  strength. 
No  ;  your  Europe  sickens  me  !  I  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  all  the  reports  which 
reach  me  from  thence,  and  which  quickly  die  away  in  this  isolated  region. 
Let  us  talk  no  more  of  Europe — I  have  done  with  her.” 

And  then,  in  lengthened  narrations,  Lady  Stanhope  would  unfold  the 
wonders  of  the  desert.  She  related  to  me  the  history  of  her  wanderings 
and  her  sovereignty ;  the  assistance  and  protection  she  had  promised 
to  all  travelers,  and  especially  to  the  French,  from  regard  to  the  memory 
of  Napoleon ;  the  death  of  Colonel  Boutin,  whose  throat  was  cut  by  the 
Ansarians,  in  the  lowest  chain  of  Lebanon  ;  the  signal  vengeance  which 
she  exacted  for  that  death ;  the  poison  offered  under  a  tent  in  the  plain  of 
Messirib  to  another  more  celebrated  traveler,  who  concealed  himself  in  the 
East  under  the  Mussulman  name  of  Ali  Bey,  and  in  Europe  under  the 
Spanish  one  of  Batidia.  She  told  me  of  her  visits  to  the  prophets  of  the 
mountain,  and  her  journeys  to  Palmyra. 

“  I  one  day  left  Damascus,”  said  she,  “  to  revisit  Balbec  and  its  ruins. 
My  friend  the  Pacha  had  placed  me  under  the  escort  of  Scheik  Nasel,  the 
chief  of  fifty  Arabs.  My  suite  followed  at  the  distance  of  a  day’s  journey. 
We  traveled  sometimes  by  night,  sometimes  by  day.  At  the  third  sunrise 
after  my  departure,  a  messenger,  mounted  on  a  dromedary,  hastened 
towards  our  caravan.  He  spoke  to  Scheik  Nasel  a  few  words  which  dis¬ 
turbed  him  and  caused  him  to  turn  pale.  ‘  What  is  the  matter  ?’  said  I 
to  him.  ‘  Nothing,’  he  replied, — and  we  continued  our  route.  Very 
shortly  a  second  dromedary  approached,  and  the  pensiveness  of  Nasel 
increased.  I  insisted  upon  knowing  the  cause:  ‘Well,  Cid — my  Lady, 
since  I  must  tell  you,  my  father,  one  of  whose  women  I  have  carried  off, 
is  in  pursuit  of  me  with  a  troop  three  times  as  numerous  as  mine,  and  is 
on  the  point  of  overtaking  us.  I  know  he  seeks  my  life,  for  such  offences 
demand  the  revenge  of  blood.  But  you  have  been  confided  to  my  care, 
and  I  will  perish  rather  than  abandon  you.’ — ‘  Depart,  fly,’  I  exclaimed  ; 
‘  I  had  much  rather  remain  alone  in  the  desert  than  see  you  murdered  by 
your  father.  I  will  wait  for  him,  and  would  willingly  attempt  your  recon¬ 
ciliation.  At  any  rate,  Balbec  cannot  be  far  off,  and  the  sun  will  be  my 
guide.’  I  dismissed  him  with  these  words  ;  and  he  shot  off,  and  presently 
disappeared  with  his  fifty  Arabs.  I  had  been  alone  about  an  hour,  with 
no  other  society  than  my  mare,  no  other  guard  than  my  poniard,  when  a 
cloud  of  dust  arose  on  the  horizon.  The  horsemen  approached  at  full 
gallop,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Nasel  was  by  my  side.  ‘  Honor  to  you,  Cid — 
my  Lady!’  he  exclaimed  ;  ‘it  is  a  warrior’s  heart  you  carry;  all  that  I 
have  said  to  you  was  hut  to  prove  your  courage.  Come,  my  father  waits 
for  you.’ — I  followed  him.  I  was  received  under  his  tent  with  all  the 
pomp  of  the  desert.  Gazelles  and  young  camels  furnished  our  entertain¬ 
ment  ;  and  their  poets  celebrate  1  the  exploits  of  past  times.  1  made  an 
alliance  with  this  tribe,  which  from  that  day  loves  and  inspects  me.” 


314 


APPENDIX,. 


Thanks,  my  dear  Lamartine,  thanks  for  these  recollections  of  my 
former  travels.  I  give  myself  np  to  the  charm  I  find  in  them,  and  I  no 
more  know  how  to  cease  speaking  of  them  than  the  story-tellers  of  the 
Khans  of  Ptolemais,  when  reciting  the  great  deeds  of  Antar. 

I  am  thinking,  as  I  write,  of  that  sun  which  disappeared  behind  the 
mountains  of  Cyprus,  and  cast  its  last  tints  on  the  peaks  of  Anti-Lebanon ; 
I  am  thinking  of  that  deep  blue  sea,  the  waves  of  which,  expiring  without 
foam,  scarcely  touched  the  beach  of  Sidon.  You,  better  than  any  one, 
can  understand  how  strongly  the  imagination  and  the  memory  are  arrested, 
how  forcibly  the  heart  beats,  when  in  such  an  amphitheatre,  an  English¬ 
woman,  whom  the  Arabs,  forgetting  her  sex,  have  named  Lord ,  veiled 
under  the  costume  of  a  Bedouin,  lets  fall  such  words  amidst  the  silence 
of  the  desert. 

Adieu !  I  quit  you  to  read  your  interesting  pages  again,  and  again  to 
renew  my  remembrances.  If  ever  you  send  your  work  to  Lady  Stanhope, 
pronounce  to  her  once  more  the  name  of  a  man  who  cherishes  her  mem¬ 
ory,  and  is  proud  of  being  at  once  one  of  those  few  travelers  who  have 
sought  her  on  the  mountains  of  her  adoption,  and  one  of  those  numerous 
friends  who  have  admired  you  in  your  native  valley,  so  contiguous  to  my 
retreat. 

Le  Vicomte  de  Marcellus. 

April  12,  1835. 


THE  END. 


APPLETON'S  LIT  EMM  MISCELL AN  T. 

A  NEW  SERIES  OF  CHOICE  BOOKS. 


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APPLETON’S  LITERARY  MISCELLANY, 

CONTINUE  D . 

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Nos.  23  and  24. — MARGARET  PERCIVAL.  A  Tale.  By  Miss  Sewell; 
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life-like  manner  in  which  the  social  condition  of  the  Roman  people  is  exhibited  It  possesses  all 
the  ^Kms  of  a  well-written  romance,  with  the  solid  attractions  of  veritable  history.” 

No.  26.— THE  FAIRY  BOWER;  or  The  History  of  a  Month.  A  Tale.  By 
the  author  of  “  The  Lost  Broach,”  “  Louisa,”  etc.  From  the  third  English 
edition.  Paper  cover,  50  cts. ;  cloth,  75  cents. 

It  is  a  tale  for  young  people,  one  of  high  moral  tone,  and  great  artistic  merit.  We  speak 
from  actual  acquaintance  with  it  when  we  say,  that  even  the  warmest  admirers  of  “  Amy  Her¬ 
bert,”  and  Miss  Sewell’s  other  works,  will  welcome  its  publication,  and  find  it  a  volume  sur¬ 
passed  by  none  of  the  kind  in  fitness  for  their  children’s  perusal.  A  few  copies  of  the  English 
editions  have  from  time  to  time  heretofore  found  their  readers  among  us,  and  such  persons  we  are 
sure  will  join  us  in  welcoming  its  republication.” — The  Churchman. 

No.  27.— A  SUMMER  IN  THE  WILDERNESS;  Embracing  a  Canoe 
Voyage  up  the  Mississippi  and  around  Lake  Superior.  By  Charles  Lanman, 
author  of  “  Essays  for  Summer  Hours,”  etc. 

‘‘Mr.  Lanman’s  new  book  of  Travels  is  in  many  respects  the  best  work  from  his  pen  ;  it  con¬ 
tains  much  original  and  novel  matter. 

No.  28.— AUNT  KITTY’S  TALES.  By  Maria  J.  McIntosh,  author  of 
“  Two  Lives,”  etc.  A  new  revised  edition.  1  vol.  l2mo.  Paper  cover,  50 
cents  ;  cloth,  75  cents. 

“  These  tales  are,  Blind  Alice,  or  Do  Right  if  you  wish  to  be  Happy  ;  Jessie  Graham,  or 
Friends  Dear,  but  Truth  Dearer  ;  Florence  Arnott,  or  Is  She  Generous  ?  Grace  and  Clara,  or 
Be  Just  as  well  as  Generous ;  and  Fallen  Leslie,  or  The  Reward  of  Self-Control.  We  have 
used  every  occasion  for  saying  that  these  tales  are  among  the  best,  if  they  are  not  the  best 
writings  of  the  kind,  for  the  young.  The  stories  are  natural,  simple  in  their  incidents,  full  of 
practical  lessons,  and  imbued  with  the  host  moral  and  religious  tone ;  while  the  style  and  man 
ner  of  the  writer  is  pleasing  and  graceful.” 

No.  29.— PREVENTION  BETTER  TUAN  CURE;  or  The  Moral  Wants 
of  the  World  we  live  in.  By  Mrs.  Ellis,  author  of  “  The  Women  of 
England,”  etc.,  etc.  1  vol.  l2mo.  Paper  cover,  50  cts.  ;  cloth,  75  cts. 

No.  30.— THE  LIFE  OF  MRS.  GODOLPHIN.  By  John  Evelyn,  Esq. 
Now  first  Published,  and  Edited  by  Samuel  Wilberforce,  D.D.,  Lord  Bishop 
of  Oxford.  12mo.  Paper  cover,  38  cts.  ;  cloth,  50  cts. 

No.  31.— A  VOYAGE  UP  THE  RIVER  AMAZON,  including  a  Resi¬ 
dence  at  Para.  By  W.  II.  Edwards,  of  New- York.  Illustrated  with  cuts. 
l2mo.  Paper  cover,  75  cts.  ;  cloth,  $1. 

Nos.  32  and  33.— LANETON  PARSONAGE.  A  Tale.  By  the  author  of 
“  Amy  Heibert,”  “Gertrude,”  “Margaret  Percival,”  etc.  2  vols.  12mo 
Paper  cover,  50  cts  ;  cloth,  $  1  50. 


STANDARD  HISTORICAL 


Published  by  D.  Appleton  fy 


WORKS. 

Co 


THE  HISTORY  OF  ROME, 

FROM  THE  EARLIEST  PERIOD. 

BY  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.  D., 

Late  Head  Maste.  of  Rugby  School,  and  Regius  Professor  of  History  in  the  University  of 

Oxford. 

The  three  volumes  of  the  last  London  edition  reprinted  entire  in  two  handsome  8vo 
volumes.  Price  $5. 

“  This  is  the  last  and  unquestionably  the  Lest  History  of  Rome.  It  is  best  not  merely 
because  it  is  the  last,  but  because  of  the  vigorous  intellect,  and  philosophic  spirit,  which 
have  been  devoted  to  the  work.  *  *  *  *  In  his  views  of  history,  he  admired  and 

professedly  imitated  Niebuhr  ;  yet  while  he  adopted  many  of  the  theories,  and  followed 
m  the  footsteps  of  that  great  master  of  historical  philosophy,  he  was  not  a  copyist,  nor  a 
mere  compiler,  for  his  own  work  is  replete  with  spirit  and  originality.” — Cincinnati  Allan 

HISTORY  OF 

THE  LATER  ROMAN  COMMONWEALTH, 

BY  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.  D. 

Two  volumes  of  the  English  edition,  in  one  handsome  8ve.  volume.  $2  5'J. 

This  work  forms  an  essential  acoompaniment  to  the  two  volumes  of  the  Early  History 
fust  published  ;  it  brings  the  History  down  to  the  period  of  the  final  establishment  of  t,h« 
Empire  under  Augustus. 

LECTURES  ON  MODERN  HISTORY, 

BY  THOMAS  ARNOLD,  D.  T>. 

With  an  Introduction  and  Notes,  by  Henry  Reed,  Professor  of  English  Literature  m 

the  University  of  Pennsylvania. 

One  handsome  volume,  12mo.  $1  25. 

"“A  better  work  than  this,  whether  its  intellectual  or  moral  character  be  regarded,  ii 
seldom  falls  to  the  lot  of  an  editor  to  notice.” — Cincinnati  Morning  Herald. 

“  It  is  a  book  which  will  please  the  reader  who  seeks  to  gratify  a  literaiy  taste,  or  love 
of  reading  ;  and  it  furnishes  a  bountiful  repast  for  the  more  intellectual,  in  the  demand* 
upon  thought,  which  it  constantly  presents.” — Banner  of  the  Cross. 

‘‘‘We  commend  it  with  great  pleasure  to  all  students  of  history,  and  to  the  lovers  of 
education  generally. — Savannah  Republican. 

A  MANUAL  OF  ANCIENT  AND  MODERN  HISTORY, 

BY  W.  COOKE  TAYLOR,  LL.  D., 

Of  Trinity  College,  Dublin. 

REVISED,  WITH  ADDITIONS  ON  AMERICAN  HISTORY, 

BY  C.  S.  HENRY,  D.  D., 

Professor  of  History  in  the  University  of  Mew-  York. 

One  handsome  volume,  8vo.,  of  800  pages.  $2  25. 

JJtg?  For  convenience  as  a  Class-book,  the  Ancient  or  Modern  portion  can  be  hao 
•  separately. 

“  To  the  million  who  have  neither  the  leisure  nor  the  means  of  an  extensive  reading 
of  history,  this  must  prove  a  welcome  book.  It  bears  on  every  page  the  impress  of  close 
thought  and  extensive  research.” — Tribune. 

“  For  a  Text  Book  for  Colleges  and  Academies,  and  for  domestic  use,  it  is  the  best 
work  yet  issued.” — Eve.  Mirror. 

HISTORY  OF  GERMANY, 

FROM  THE  EARLIEST  PERIOD  TO  THE  PRESENT  TIME. 

BY  FREDERICK  KOHLRAUSCH, 

Chief  of  the  Board  of  Education  for  the  Kingdom  of  Hanover,  and  late  Professor  of 

History  in  the  Polytechnic  School. 

Translated  from  the  last  German  edition,  by  James  D.  Haas. 

Complete  in  one  elegant  8vo.  volume,  of  500  pages,  with  complete  Index,  bound  in 

cloth,  $1  50. 

••  its  merits  are  conciseness,  clearness,  and  accuracy.” — Mew  Orleans  Bee. 

“  It  satisfactorily  supplies  a  vacancy  which  confessedly  existed  in  English  literature 
and  will  prove  a  valuable  and  permanent  addition  to  the  historical  department  of  ovi 
libraries.” — Southern  Churchman. 


1).  Appleton  Co.’s  Publications. 

PROF.  FROST’S  POPULAR  WORKS. 

THE  BOOK  OF  THE  NAVY  : 

Comprising  a  General  History  of  the  American  Marine,  and  particular  ac¬ 
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pendence  to  the  present  time,  compiled  from  the  best  authorities.  By  John 
Frost,  L.  L.  D.  With  an  Appendix,,  containing  Naval  Songs,  Anecdotes,  &e. 
Embellished  with  numerous  original  engravings,  and  Portraits  of  distinguished 
Naval  Commanders.  One  volume,  12mo.,  $1,00. 

“  This  is  the  only  popular,  and  yet  authentic,  single  view  which  we  have  of  the  naval  exploits 
of  our  country,  arranged  with  good  taste  and  set  forth  in  good  language.” — XJ.  S.  Gazette. 

THE  BOOK  OF  THE  ARMY  : 

Comprising  a  General  Military  History  of  the  United  States,  from  the  period 
of  the  Revolution  to  the  present  time,  with  particular  accounts  of  all  the  most 
celebrated  Battles,  compiled  from  the  best  authorities.  By  John  Frost,  L.L.  D. 
Illustrated  with  numerous  Engravings,  and  Portraits  of  distinguished  Com¬ 
manders.  One  volume,  l2mo.,  $1,25. 

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true  national  spirit.”  . 

THE  BOOK  OF  THE  COLONIES  : 

Comprising  a  History  of  the  Colonies  composing  the  United  States  ;  from 
the  discovery  in  the  10th  century  to  the  commencement  of  the  Revolutionary 
War.  Compiled  from  the  best  authorities.  By  John  Frost,  L.  L.  D.  12mo., 
illustrated,  $1,00. 

This  volume  may  be  considered  as- a  sequel  to  the  ‘  Book  of  the  Army’  and  tire  ‘  Book  of  the 
Navy,’  by  the  same  author. 

THE  BOOK  OF  THE  INDIANS 

Of  North  America.  Their  manners,  Customs,  and  Present  State.  Compiled 
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beneficial  Effects  of  Virtuous  Conduct.  By  John  Frost,  L.L.  D.  l2mo„  il¬ 
lustrated,  $1,00. 

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of  success  in  life  and  private  happiness,  than  of  distinction  and  honour  among  men.” 

THE  BOOK  OF  ILLUSTRIOUS  MECHANICS 

Of  Europe  and  America.  Translated  from  the  French  of  Edward  Foncaud. 
Edited  by  John  Frost,  L.L.  D.  12mo.,  illustrated,  $1,00. 

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ty  of  gaining  information.” — J\T.  Orleans  Times. 

THE  BOOK  OF  ANECDOTES: 

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One  vol.  12mo.,  illustrated,  $1,00. 

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THE  BOOK  OF  TRAVELS  IN  AFRICA: 

From  the  earliest  ages  to  the  present  time,  compiled  from  the  best  authorities 
By  John  Frost,  L.L.  D.  One  vol.  12mo.,  illustrated  with  Portraits  and  Steel 
Engravings,  $1,00. 

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young  persons  to  be  instructed.” — Prot.  Churchman. 


WORKS  BY  M .  MICHELET. 

Published  by  D.  Appleton  Sf  Co.y  200  Broadway 


HISTORY  OF  FRANCE, 

FROM  THE  EARLIEST  PERIOD. 

TRANSLATED  BY  G.  H.  SMITH,  F.  G.  S. 

Two  handsome  8vo,  volumes. 

“  So  graphic,  so  life-like,  so  dramatic  a  historian  as  Michelet,  we  know  not  where 
else  to  look  for.  The  countries,  the  races  of  men,  the  times,  pass  vividly  before  \<>u 
as  you  peruse  his  animated  pages,  where  we  find  nothing  of  diffuseness  or  irrcle'v.m 
cy.  It  is  a  masterly  work,  and  the  publishers  are  doing  the  roading  public  a  servic 
by  producing  it  in  so  unexceptionable  and  cheap  an  edition.” — Tribune. 


HISTORY 

OF  THE 


ROMAN  REPUBLIC. 

One  handsome  12mo.  volume.  Paper  cover  75  cts.  Cloth  $1. 


“  M.  Michelet,  in  his  History  of  the  Roman  Republic,  first  introduces  the  readet 
to  the  Ancient  Geography  of  Daly  ;  then  by  giving  an  excellent  picture  of  the  present 
state  of  Rome  and  the  surrounding  country,  full  of  grand  ruins,  he  excites  in  the 
reader  the  desire  to  investigate  the  ancient  history  of  this  wonderful  land.  He  next 
imparts  the  results  of  the  latest  investigations,  entire,  deeply  studied  and  clearly 
arranged,  and  saves  the  u  educated  reader  the  trouble  of  investigating  the  sources, 
while  he  gives  to  the  more  educated  mind  an  impetus  to  study  the  literaturo  from 
which  he  gives  very  accurate  quotations  in  his  notes.  He  describes  the  peculiarities 
and  the  life  of  the  Roman  people  in  a  masterly  manner,  and  ho  fascinates  every 
reader,  by  the  brilliant  clearness  and  vivid  freshness  of  his  style,  while  he  shows 
himself  a  good  historian,  by  the  justness  and  impartiality  with  which  he  relates  and 
philosophizes.” 


THE  LIFE 


OF 

MARTIN  LUTHER, 

GATHERED  FROM  HIS  OWN  WRITINGS 
By  M.  Michelet:  translated  by  G.  H.  Smith,  F.  G.  S. 

One  handsome  volume,  12mo.  Cloth  75  cts.,  Paper  cover  50  cts. 

This  work  is  not  an  historical  romance,  founded  on  the  life  of  Martin  Luther, 
is  it  a  history  of  the  establishment  of  Lutheranism.  It  is  simply  a  biography, 
o-waposed  of  a  series  of  translations^  Excepting  that  portion  of  it  which  has  refer- 
er*o  to  his  childhood,  and  which  Luther  himself  has  left  undescribed,  the  translator 
has  rarely  found  occasion  to  make  his  own  appearance  on  the  scene.  *  *  *  *  * 

It  is  almost  invariably  Luther  himself  who  speaks,  almost  invariably  Luther  related 
by  Luther. — Extract  from  M.  Michelet’s  Preface. 


THE  PEOPLE. 

TRANSLATED  BY  G.  H.  SMITH,  F.  G.  S. 

One  neat  volume,  12mo.  Cloth  62  cts.,  Paper  cover  38  cts. 

“  This  book  is  more  than  a  book  ;  it  is  myself,  therefore  it  belongs  to  you.  *  * 

Receive  thou  this  book  of  “  The  People,”  because  it  is  you — because  it  is  I.  *  * 
I  have  made  this  book  out  of  myself,  out  of  my  life,  and  out  of  my  heart.  I  have 
derived  it  from  my  observation,  from  my  relations  of  friendship  and  of  neighborhood ; 
have  picked  it  up  upon  the  roads.  Chance  loves  to  favor  thoso  who  follow  out  one 
contiruous  idea.  Above  all,  I  have  found  it  in  the  recollections  of  my  youth.  To 
kaow  the  life  of  the  people,  their  labor  and  their  sufferings,  I  had  but  to  intorrogate 
my  memory. — Extract  from  Author’s  Preface. 


CELEBRATED  ITALIAN  ROMANCE 


D.  Appleton  8p  Co.  publish 

I  PROMESSI  SPOSI, 

OH 

THE  BETROTHED  LOVERS. 

BY 

ALESSANDRO  MANZONI. 

Two  neat  Volumes,  12mo.  Paper  cover,  $1.  Cloth,  $1  50 

"  This  is  a  work  of  absorbing  interest,  with  regard  to  the  varied  incidents  which  mark 
the  progress  of  the  characters  who  figure  in  it.  The  scene  is  laid  in  Italy,  in  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  the  seventeenth  century,  and  the  tale  of  the  Betrothed,  to  whose  union  obstacles 
are  continually  occurring,  gives  a  vivid  picture  of  the  state  of  society,  moral  social,  re¬ 
ligious,  and  political,  at  that  time.  It  is  an  admirable  adjunct  to  history,  furnishing  a 
Key  to  the  strange  events  that  occurred  in  the  peninsula,  during  the  prevalence  of  Span¬ 
ish  dominion  there.  Manzoni-has  here  truly  realized  his  quaint  idea  of  history — true  his¬ 
tory,  which  analyzes  society  to  its  elements — ‘taking  prisoners  by  force  the  Years  of 
Time,  already  dead  ;  calling  them  to  life,  bringing  them  under  review,  and  re-arraying 
them  in  battle  array  !’  The  descriptions  in  this  tale  are  exquisitely  beautiful,  the  moral 
and  religious  tone  of  a  lofty  nature,  and  the  path  of  the  actors  is  bestrewed  with  every 
possible  variety  of  agitating  matter — ‘  battle,  murder,  and  sudden  death’ — the  bravo,  or 
hireling  assassin,  the  plotting  monk,  the  venal  and  voluptuary  noble,  on  one  side  of  the 
picture  ;  while  maklen  constancy,  chivalric  devotedness,  simple  truth,  and  civic  virtues 
brighten  the  other.  It  is  a  work  which  has  made  a  greater  sensation  in  Europe  than  that 
of  any  other  writer  of  fiction,  since  the  publication  of  the  Waverly  series.  We  recom 
mend  it  to  the  perusal  of  all  who  have  leisure  to  lose  an  hour  or  so  in  the  company  of  the 
accomplished  author,  amidst  the  exciting  scenes  of  life  in  Italy  two  centuries  ago.”— 
Southern  Patriot. 

“  This  far-famed  specimen  of  Italian  historical  romance  is  here  presented  to  us  in  an 
English  form.  The  elegant  simplicity  of  the  style  will  render  it  popular,  especially  among 
the  younger  classes  of  readers,  and  its  faithful  but  minute  description  of  the  famine,  riots, 
and  the  plague  in  Milan,  rival  in  force  and  pathos  the  pages  of  our  own  immortal  Defoe. 
The  story  is  of  the  most  natural  and  touching  character — the  plot  being  the  prolonged 
separation  of  the  betrothed  lovers  just  at  the  eve  of  marriage.  The  date  is  rather  more 
than  two  centuries  ago,  and  the  work  gives  a  vivid  portraiture  of  that  lawless  age.”  — 
Bath  Chronicle. 

“  We  are  delighted  to  meet  with  this  masterpiece  of  modern  fiction  in  a  form  which 
mav  render  it  accessible  to  the  English  reading  public.  The  Italians  consider  ‘  The  Be¬ 
trothed  ’  the  first  fiction  of  the  age,  holding  some  affinity  to  the  school  of  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  but  surpassing  his  works  in  power  and  depth,  as  we  confess  it  certainly  does  in 
mora.  design.  ‘  The  Betrothed  ’  is  well  translated  and  very  handsomely  got  up  ;  so  as  to 
be  entitled  by  its  dress  to  appear  in  the  most  refined  circles,  and  by  its  intrinsic  qualities  to 
•harm  and  instruct  every  class  of  readers.” — Tail's  Magazine. 


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With  Notes.  12mo . 

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